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PLACE      Ethel  Shackeljbrd 


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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of 
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THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 


ETHEL     SHACKELFORD 


THE 
JUMPING-OFF     PLACE 


BY 

ETHEL  SHACKELFORD 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  LIFE  OF  ME'  ' 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.   DORAN  COMPANY 


LOAN  STAO8 


Copyright,  1918 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DOBAN  COMPANY 


PS  55  57 


TO 
MY  FRIEND 

BELLE  M.  WALKER 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

CHAPTER  I 

'TpHERE  were  a  great  many  reasons  why  some- 
•*•      thing  had  to  be  done  with  her. 

'  You've  simply  got  to  take  a  better  hold  on  life!  " 
her  physician  fairly  stormed  at  her.  "  You  can't  allow 
yourself  to  be  the  victim  of  every  shadow  that  comes 
within  miles  of  you,  and  then  expect  me  to  be  respon 
sible  for  your  health.  It  is  asking  too  much  of  any 
doctor.  Everybody  has  to  deal  with  the  tragedies  of 
existence  —  everybody's  sense  of  humour  runs  down 
now  and  then.  But  one  would  suppose  you  had  a 
monopoly  on  trouble !  " 

The  "  case  "  sank  quietly  into  the  chair  beside  the 
doctor's  desk.  She  did  not  volunteer  any  comment 
upon  the  half-severe,  half-indulgent  lecture  that  was 
being  hurled  at  her.  Its  truth  was  the  doctor's  last  re 
sort.  Medicine  would  do  nothing.  Hers  was  a  case 
of  nerves,  resulting  from  the  fact  that  life  had  put  too 
much  stress  on  a  frail  constitution.  The  "  case  "  her 
self  was  serious  and  young,  with  pathetic  brown  eyes 
and  a  sort  of  droopy  attitude,  both  physically  and 
mentally.  She  took  no  interest  in  herself,  little  interest 
in  her  physician,  and  no  interest  at  all  in  life  in  general. 

"Say  something,  will  you?"  demanded  the  doctor, 
with  an  heroic  attempt  to  give  the  impression  that  she 

9 


io         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

filled  him  with  a  mild  form  of  contempt  —  which  she 
did  not,  incidentally. 

"  What  shall  I  say?"  she  asked,  gently,  looking  at 
his  framed  sheepskin  on  the  wall,  but  not  seeing  it. 

"  Well,"  the  doctor  suggested,  "  let  me  hear  what 
you  think  of  travelling  for  a  while.  I  know  you  will 
not  consider  Europe." 

"  Never  Europe,"  she  said.  "  Europe  is  full  of 
Americans  in  black  who  have  no  idea  what  they  want 
to  do,  or  where  they  want  to  go.  I  shall  never  join 
them." 

"  I  understand  this,  perfectly,"  her  physician  ac 
knowledged.  "  But  how  about  seeing  something  of 
this  country?  Have  you  ever  been  West?  " 

"  N-no,"  she  replied,  indifferently. 

11  Why  don't  you  go?  "  he  went  on. 

"  Well,  Doctor  LeRoy,  if  I  bestirred  myself  suffi 
ciently  to  have  any  reason  at  all,  I  should  say  it  is  be 
cause  the  West  sounds  rather  far  away  from  you." 
And  there  was  the  very  faintest  smile  in  the  world 
somewhere  about  her,  though  it  would  have  been  im 
possible  to  say  whether  it  lurked  about  her  eyes  or  her 
mouth. 

The  doctor  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  laid  a  good, 
strong  fist  on  his  desk  so  that  it  made  the  inkwell 
bounce.  "  Now  see  here !  "  he  announced,  "  you've 
got  to  stop  this !  Besides  being  the  most  trying  patient 
I  ever  had,  you  are  an  unconscionable  coquette.  The 
worst  of  you  is  that  you  are  insidious,  too." 

"  So?  "  she  smiled.  "  But  let  me  reassure  you,  Doc 
tor —  physicians  are  supposed  to  be  immune  to  all 
contagious  things." 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         11 

"  They  are  not,  just  the  same.  But  let  us  be  se 
rious,"  he  said,  sitting  down  again.  "  Now  why  don't 
you  decide  upon  some  place  quite  different  from  any 
thing  you  have  ever  seen;  and  just  see  if  a  complete 
change  of  climate,  locality  and  faces  won't  help  you  to 
get  out  of  yourself?  How  about  that  Montana  mining 
camp  I  once  told  you  of  —  the  place  where  I  visited 
my  friend  Burns  when  he  was  chief  geologist  of  the 
mines  out  there?  Burns  had  a  pretty  little  bungalow 
which  he  wrote  me  had  been  boarded  up  since  he  left, 
because  being  on  the  edge  of  town  it  was  not  readily 
rented  or  sold.  Perhaps  we  can  get  it  for  you.  It 
is  furnished,  I  understand,  and  the  things  as  I  recall 
them,  were  simple  and  in  good  taste.  There  was  a 
grand  piano;  and  if  you  put  up  some  fresh  curtains 
and  take  out  some  good  rugs  and  a  few  pictures,  and  tie 
a  few  pink  satin  bows  all  over  things  — " 

"  Pink  satin  bows?"  the  lady  broke  in,  scornfully. 
"  Do  I  look  like  the  type  of  woman  who  would  tie  a 
pink  satin  bow  on  the  wood  basket  and  another  around 
the  neck  of  a  plaster  cast  of  the  Venus  de  Milo? 
Horrors!  Pretty  soon  you  will  be  tactfully  suggest 
ing  the  cosiness  of  geranium  slips !  " 

The  doctor  smiled,  for  this  was  the  first  sign  of 
vitality  the  "  case  "  had  shown  in  weeks.  He  hurried 
on  in  his  endeavour  to  carry  his  point.  "  I  wish  you 
might  see  the  picture  in  my  mind  of  an  autumn  day  in 
that  huge  living  room  of  Burns'.  A  dancing  wood  fire, 
a  magazine  —  and  through  the  low,  leaded  windows, 
the  mountains  —  great,  snow-capped  mountains,  with 
the  foothills  in  shadow  in  the  foreground.  They  are 
all  ruggedness  and  rocks,  for  the  timber  has  all  been 


12         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

cut  long  since  to  be  used  in  the  mines.  Those  moun 
tains  make  these  wretched  New  York  streets  seem  like 
a  prison.  You  could  ride,  by  way  of  amusement,  and 
have  the  people  you  like  in  to  dinner.  It  would  all 
do  you  an  infinity  of  good,  believe  me.  Your  sense  of 
proportion  would  readjust  itself  out  there  where  every 
thing  is  foreign  to  you.  Half  the  trouble  with  you 
now,  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  artificial  atmos 
phere  in  which  you  live." 

The  lady  patiently  listened. 

"  Strangers  regard  the  Camp  as  a  sort  of  jumping- 
off  place,  at  first  —  but  it  isn't  half  bad.  I'll  give  you 
a  letter  to  a  young  Dr.  Marsden  I  met  out  there  —  a 
nice  chap  who  takes  care  of  miners  that  meet  with  acci 
dent,  besides  doing  general  work.  But  you  don't  need 
a  doctor  —  you  need  diversion.  Think  it  over.  Will 
you  go  ?  "  The  doctor  waited,  eagerly,  hoping  she 
would  consider  his  words  —  this  time. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  go  ?  "  the  lady  asked,  like  a 
little  child. 

"  I  certainly  do,"  he  replied,  sincerely. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  rising  to  leave,  "  I  should  not 
think  of  having  a  physician  whose  orders  I  cared  to 
disobey." 

"Poor  Marsden!"  sighed  the  doctor,  with  make- 
believe  pity.  "  I  trust  his  medical  education  has  been 
broad  enough  to  show  him  the  danger  of  taking  any 
thing  deeper  than  a  professional  interest  in  his  pa 


tients." 


"  Somebody  has  to   take  me   seriously,   once   in   a 
while,    I    suppose,"   she   said,    plaintively.     "  And   it 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE          13 

might  as  well  be  Dr.  Marsden  as  anybody,  mightn't 
it?" 

"  Marsden  is  very  good  looking  —  the  ladies  are 
mad  over  him,"  the  doctor  told  her. 

"So?"  asked  the  lady,  idly.  Then  offering  him 
her  hand,  she  astonished  him  by  saying  —  really,  he 
quite  doubted  his  ears  — "  Good-bye,  Doctor.  I  shall 
not  forget  how  good  you  have  been  to  me.  I  hate  to 
write  letters,  but  I'll  find  some  way  to  let  you  know 
how  I  am  getting  on.  And  I  want  to  say  I  know  it  is 
hard  for  you  to  be  severe  with  me  —  you  are  the  soul 
of  sympathy,  in  reality.  You  are  not  cross  —  you  just 
like  to  play-act  it.  Good-bye !  " 

"  You  —  you're  not  really  going?  "  he  gasped. 

"  I  am  really  going  out  to  Montana  —  four  days 
west  of  here,  isn't  it?  "  she  said. 

"  But  you  will  be  in  again  to  say  good-bye?  " 

"  I  have  just  said  good-bye,"  she  reminded  him. 

'  Yes  —  but  when  will  you  go?  "  he  asked. 

"  What  difference  does  that  make?  "  she  questioned. 

"  Well,  every  dif  —  that  is  —  no  particular  differ 
ence,  in  a  way,  but  how  about  the  letter  to  Marsden  and 
seeing  if  Burns  will  give  you  the  house?  Burns  is 
somewhere  down  in  New  Mexico  now,  I  think.  And 
how  about  packing  up  your  things?  " 

"  Oh,"  she  answered,  promptly,  "  I  will  look  up  the 
local  real  estate  agent  and  have  him  get  a  carpenter  to 
take  down  the  shutters,  if  I  like  the  place;  and  after 
that  I  can  manage  some  way  to  get  a  look  at  Dr.  Mars 
den  —  1  am  fussy  about  my  choice  of  physicians,  you 
know.  After  seeing  the  man,  I  can  let  you  know  if  a 


14         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

letter  to  him  will  be  acceptable.  But  thank  you  just 
the  same !  " 

This  success  was  almost  too  abrupt  for  the  doctor  to 
comprehend. 

"  Aren't  you  making  up  your  mind  rather  quickly?  " 
he  ventured,  as  though  perhaps,  after  all,  he  was  tak 
ing  the  responsibility  of  his  patient  a  shade  too  lightly 
in  sending  her  so  far  away. 

"  When  I  decide  to  make  a  change,  I  generally  move 
suddenly  —  you  may  remember?"  she  appealed  to 
him.  "  I  might  as  well  leave  on  the  limited  at  five- 
thirty  as  to  drag  the  matter  out  a  week  or  ten  days. 
The  maids  can  pack  me  up  in  three  hours,  and  the  house 
hold  stuff  can  follow  by  express.  Again  —  bye-bye !  " 

She  was  gone. 

The  doctor  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  this  new 
phase.  It  was  probably  just  one  of  the  lady's  quaint 
jokes,  he  argued  —  just  another  trick  to  hold  his  atten 
tion.  Although  Dr.  LeRoy  felt  a  bit  foolish  at  the 
possibility  of  being  caught  taking  this  little  patient  lit 
erally,  still  he  ran  this  risk,  and  telephoned  her  house 
after  dinner  that  evening  to  find  out  how  she  was  feel 
ing. 

His  answer  was:  "She's  not  in,  sur  —  no  sur. 
She  and  the  up-stairs  maid,  Martha,  has  gahn  away,  sur. 
Oi'm  here  to  kape  the  house  and  pack  up  things  and 
sind  off  the  other  servants.  This  is  Annie,  the  cook 
—  yis  sur.  Good-bye,  sur!" 

"  I  wonder  what  the  West  will  do  for  her?  "  mused 
the  doctor. 


CHAPTER  II 

'"T'^HE  Camp,  besides  being  four  days  west  of  New 
•••  York,  was  something  more  and  something  less 
than  its  classification  would  imply.  There  were  signs 
left  of  the  original  mining  camp,  such  as  "  dumps  "  all 
through  the  town,  and  there  were  shaft-houses  standing 
next  to  business  blocks,  and  after  twelve  o'clock  at 
night  the  street  railway  tracks  were  also  used  for  ore 
trains.  Yet  the  Camp  boasted  of  a  good  hotel  with 
the  familiar  big  rotunda  chairs  and  the  same  grade  of 
tiles  on  the  cafe  floor  that  usually  grow  on  cafe  floors, 
while  the  guests  presented  the  same  general  mixed  ap 
pearance  of  hotel  guests  all  over  the  country. 

In  the  Camp  hotel  at  this  moment  stood  Mr.  Craw 
ford  Mansfield  Kerr,  thrusting  a  pen  into  a  potato-pen 
wiper  while  waiting  for  Mr.  Barton  Colby,  who,  as 
usual,  was  late.  These  two  were  in  the  habit  of  din 
ing  together  on  Wednesdays  and  some  other  days. 
Mr.  Kerr's  restless  eyes  travelled  to  the  open  register 
at  his  elbow,  and  he  saw  among  the  day's  arrivals 
"  Mrs.  E.  Evanston  and  maid,  New  York." 

"  Mrs.  Evanston  and  maid,"  he  reflected. 
"Well!" 

Just  then  Mr.  Colby  appeared  with  his  customary 
set  of  apologies,  to  which  Mr.  Kerr  paid  no  heed,  but 
pointed  to  the  recent  entry. 

"  She  can't  be  a  new  feature  at  the  vaudeville,  can 
she?  "  he  ventured.  "  They  don't  change  the  bill  un 
til  Saturday.  Wonder  if  she  isn't  proud  of  her  front 

15 


16         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

name,  or  if  she  is  in  that  fashionable  position,  betwixt 
and  between,  when  the  courts  haven't  decided  whether 
she  is  to  use  her  own  front  name,  or  Evanston's?  " 

"  The  main  trouble  with  this  Camp,"  began  Mr. 
Barton  Colby  with  the  assurance  he  alone  affected  with 
the  older  man,  "  is  the  fact  that  the  place  does  not 
afford  enough  legitimate  entertainment.  Things  in 
terest  us  here  that  we  would  not  stoop  to  notice  In  civ 
ilisation.  Better  ask  the  and  maid  if  you  must  know 
the  lady's  full  name.  Come  on  in  to  dinner.  I  am 
tired  and  sore  as  a  goat  —  been  underground  most  of 
the  day,  trying  out  a  new  drill." 

"  Oh,  very  well!  "  replied  Mr.  Kerr,  lightly.  "  But 
you  needn't  be  so  crotchety,  Barton.  Besides,  you 
quite  overlook  the  proof  that  the  Camp  isn't  so  bad  — 
there  are  three  of  us  living  here,  you  might  remember, 
when  we  don't  have  to !  " 

"Three  such  fools?"  groaned  young  Colby. 
"  Lord !  I  have  done  the  place  an  injustice  —  I  have 
been  thinking  you  were  the  only  one  who  liked  it." 

Messrs.  Kerr  and  Colby  had  got  their  napkins  un 
folded,  and  had  manfully  started  in  to  kill  time  with 
the  French  bread  and  butter  until  their  soup  should 
arrive,  when,  in  glancing  up,  they  saw  two  figures  in 
the  doorway  —  one  a  delicate,  patrician  looking  young 
woman  with  sad  brown  eyes,  a  white  face  with  a  very, 
very  red  mouth;  a  lady  dressed  in  a  soft  black  gown 
with  a  ruche  of  white  at  the  throat.  The  other  woman 
was  also  in  black,  but  the  kind  of  dress  worn  by  a  maid, 
with  stiff  white  collar  and  cuffs. 

With  a  half-frightened  look,  the  lady  waited  for 
the  head  waiter,  who  came  up  promptly,  showed  her 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         17 

to  a  small  table  and  held  back  a  chair  for  her.  An 
other  waiter  drew  back  the  opposite  chair  for  the  other 
woman ;  but  the  maid,  having  escorted  her  mistress  to 
her  place,  quietly  left  the  room. 

This  was  an  extraordinary  performance  for  the 
Camp.  It  interested  Messrs.  Kerr  and  Colby,  whose 
eyes  missed  not  the  slightest  move  in  the  unimportant 
action  of  the  Camp's  new  guest. 

Young  Colby  was  especially  observing,  without 
openly  staring. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Mr.  Kerr  with  a  shade  of  sar 
casm  in  his  tone,  "  the  soup's  come,  Barton.  It's  been 
on  the  table  a  full  minute  —  and  no  doubt  you  will  be 
in  better  trim  to  find  out  all  about  the  lady,  after  you 
eat  it." 

Mr.  Colby  coloured  slightly  at  finding  his  ideas  had 
converted  themselves  into  a  boomerang.  He  had  been 
meaning  for  some  time  to  stop  patronising  Mr.  Craw 
ford  Mansfield  Kerr,  who  was  much  older  than  him 
self  and  who  had  for  years  been  an  established  institu 
tion  in  the  Camp,  like  mining  and  golf.  He  reminded 
himself  of  his  resolution,  and  did  not  glance  across  the 
way  again  —  that  is,  Mr.  Kerr  did  not  catch  him  at  it. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  days  Messrs.  Kerr  and  Colby 
and  several  other  men  who  preferred  the  hotel  dinner 
to  their  club  one,  were  thoroughly  alive  to  the  move 
ments  of  the  new  personality  in  the  community.  If 
one  saw  her  getting  into  a  carriage,  he  told  someone 
else,  only  to  be  thrown  into  the  background  by  hear 
ing  that  his  listener  had  seen  her  get  out  of  the  car 
riage  ! 

" 1  wonder  what  she  is  out  in  this  Camp  for?  "  said 


i8         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Mr.  Kerr  one  day  on  the  country  club  por*ch.  "  And 
I  wonder  which  one  of  us  shall  meet  her  first?  " 

"  You,  of  course,"  scoffed  Mr.  Colby,  brushing  the 
rim  of  his  soft  hat  back  from  his  attractive  young  face. 
"  Don't  they  call  you  the  '  town  beau,'  Kerr?  You'll 
have  to  live  up  to  the  distinction!  " 

"Whose  good  name  is  up  for  dissection  now?" 
pleasantly  asked  young  Dr.  Marsden,  coming  in  from 
the  links  and  slamming  the  screen  door  behind  him. 
Dropping  his  bag  of  sticks,  he  threw  himself  into  a 
porch  chair  and  waited  for  an  answer. 

"  We  were  speaking  of  the  widow,"  remarked  Mr. 
Kerr. 

"  The  widow  ?     What  widow  ?  "  asked  Marsden. 

"  The  new  widow,"  Kerr  patiently  enlightened  him. 

"  Mrs.  Evanston  and  maid,"  Mr.  Colby  further  ex 
plained. 

"  Oh !  "  A  light  burst  in  upon  Marsden.  "  Is  she 
a  widow?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Kerr. 

"  I  am  sure  /  don't  know,"  smilingly  asserted  the 
delightful  "  Captain  "  Leonard. 

"You  can  search  me!"  young  Colby  vindicated 
himself,  blowing  a  puff  of  cigarette  smoke  through  his 
nose. 

"What  are  you  men  talking  about?"  gaily  de 
manded  Mrs.  St.  John,  coming  outside  from  the  blaz 
ing  logs  on  the  hearth  in  the  big  room,  for  they  were 
proving  themselves  too  much  in  the  sunny  October 
afternoon. 

"  We  are  talking  about  the  widow,"  Mr.  Kerr  in 
formed  her. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE          19 

"What  widow  ?"  she  asked  with  concern,  or  per 
haps  it  was  with  hope.  It  was  very  dull  in  the  Camp 
just  then.  "  Has  somebody  died?  " 

Colby  blew  out  some  more  smoke  and  took  upon 
himself  the  task  of  making  answer.  "  We  can't  say 
exactly.  We  don't  know  yet  whether  he  is  dead  or 
not,"  he  dolefully  told  her. 

41  Oh,  you  fellows  are  always  joking!  "  she  snapped. 
"  And  I  would  take  my  oath  that  you  are  still  on  the 
subject  of  the  lady  in  black  at  the  hotel." 

"  She  isn't  at  the  hotel  any  more  —  she  has  gone," 
announced  Colby  with  an  air  of  importance. 

"  Who  told  you  that?  "  instantly  asked  Mr.  Kerr. 

"  I  saw  her  go,"  confessed  Colby,  as  he  looked  out 
at  the  isolated,  treeless  mountain  that  rose  abruptly  out 
of  the  earth  about  a  mile  from  the  club  house. 

"Where  has  she  gone?"  asked  Captain  Leonard, 
with  just  as  much  interest  as  though  he  had  seen  the 
lady,  himself  —  which  he  had  not. 

"  I  don't  know,"  sighed  young  Colby  at  last,  glan 
cing  up  to  see  if  his  evident  concern  struck  Mrs.  St. 
John. 

It  did. 

"  I  can  tell  you  where  Mrs.  Evanston  has  gone," 
volunteered  Dr.  Marsden,  casually. 

Everybody  turned  toward  that  good-looking  young 
man,  who  seemed  to  ignore  the  suspense  he  was  caus 
ing  by  a  prolonged  search  through  all  of  his  pockets 
for  his  cigarette  case.  However,  he  remarked  at  last, 
i(  Why  —  why  she  has  taken  the  Burns  bungalow  on 
the  top  of  Copper  Hill.  It  will  be  nice  to  see  a  light 
up  there  again,  won't  it?  " 


20         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  How  do  you  know  she  has  taken  the  Burns  bun 
galow?  "  two  or  three  voices  asked  as  one. 

"  She  told  me  so,"  Marsden  acknowledged,  simply. 

"  She  told  you  so?  "  repeated  Kerr,  incredulously. 

"  She  told  you  so?  For  goodness'  sake!  "  echoed 
Captain  Leonard. 

"  When  did  you  meet  her,  Doctor?  "  sharply  probed 
Mrs.  St.  John. 

"Say!"  And  young  Colby  screwed  up  his  face 
comically.  "  Are  you  sure,  Doc,  it  wasn't  the  and 
maid  who  told  you  so?  " 

"  Go  and  look  at  the  bungalow,  if  you  don't  believe 
me,"  suggested  the  doctor. 

Kerr  leaned  forward,  as  if  to  sift  the  matter  down 
to  the  satisfaction  of  everybody,  and  asked,  "  Where 
abouts  were  you  when  she  told  you  this?  " 

"  At  the  hotel,"  replied  the  doctor,  not  in  the  least 
as  if  prevaricating. 

"  At  the  hotel,"  repeated  Mr.  Kerr,  slowly.  "  You 
don't  say  so!  And  when  was  this?  " 

"Lord!"  exclaimed  Marsden,  impatiently,  "one 
would  suppose  I  was  on  trial  for  my  life,  to  hear  the 
cross-examination!  But  it  was  the  day  before  yester 
day,  if  you  must  know,  Mr.  District  Attorney,  and  the 
hour  was  approximately  four  in  the  afternoon.  Any 
thing  more?  " 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  meet  her?  "  Captain  Leon 
ard  next  wanted  to  know. 

"I  met  her  —  professionally,"  the  doctor  impor 
tantly  announced.  "  Mrs.  Evanston's  maid  acci 
dentally  let  a  trunk  lid  fall  on  her  hand  —  and  they 
sent  for  me.  Anything  else?  " 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         21 

"Wouldn't  that  kill  you?"  young  Colby  appealed 
to  the  entire  gathering.  "She  sent  for  him!  Now 
if  she  had  been  the  Chief  of  Police,  we  should  under 
stand,  perfectly,  her  having  his  name  and  address. 
But  as  things  stand,  we  would  like  to  have  this  point 
made  clearer,  Doc.  Could  you  tell  us,  please,  how  in 
the  name  of  kingdom  come,  she  ever  heard  of  you?  " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  am  trying  to  find  out,  my 
self,  Mr.  Colby,"  grandly  asserted  Dr.  Marsden,  rising 
and  with  mock  dignity  bowing  himself  and  his  golf 
sticks  into  the  club  house,  to  begin  his  favourite  five-mile 
walk  —  on  the  pianola.  "  And  one  more  thing!  "  the 
doctor  said,  before  slamming  the  door  behind  him, 
"  I  should  thank  you  kindly,  Mr.  Colby,  to  cut  out  call 
ing  me  Doc!  " 


CHAPTER  III 

\T7HEN  Mr.  Burns  lived  in  the  Camp,  the  pic- 
"  turesque  bungalow  with  its  cement  walls  and 
green-shingled  roof,  used  to  be  quite  a  centre  in  its 
own  way.  It  stood  pluckily  up  against  the  sky  line  on 
the  top  of  Copper  Hill,  and  from  its  wide,  low  ve 
randa  running  all  around  the  east  side  and  across  the 
front  of  the  house,  one  could  get  a  capital  idea  of  the 
Camp  with  its  ugly  little  cabins,  its  few  tall  business 
blocks  shooting  up  like  isolated  tombstones  here  and 
there,  its  deserted  shaft-houses,  the  dumps,  the  big 
steel  gallows-frames,  the  distant  cemeteries,  and  all 
else  that  went  to  make  up  the  crude,  enterprising  place. 
Also  from  this  site  one  got  a  glorious  view  of  the  sur 
rounding  country  for  miles. 

Burns  had  lived  up  here  with  a  Chinese  servant  in 
floppy  linens  and  flowing  pig-tail,  and  then  there  had 
been  many  jolly  times.  But  now  the  townsfolk  had 
grown  used  to  seeing  the  little  bungalow  all  boxed  up 
against  the  onslaughts  of  small  boys  whose  chief  aim  in 
life  seems  to  be  to  throw  stones  through  windows. 
The  people  who  lived  nearest  the  bungalow  were  those 
in  small,  ramshackle  cottages  of  frame  and  brick  — 
principally  miners  and  their  families.  And  if  "  so 
ciety  "  was  so  hard  pressed  for  amusement  that  it  took 
undue  note  of  the  movements  of  "  Mrs.  Evanston  and 
maid,"  one  can  easily  imagine  the  excitement  with  which 
Mrs.  Foley  and  Mrs.  Casey  and  the  five  little  Martin- 
etties  watched  the  unboarding  of  the  bungalow  win- 

22 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         23 

dows,  the  adjusting  of  the  sticking  front  door,  and  the 
arrival  of  more  trunks  and  boxes  than  they  ever  saw 
at  any  one  time  before. 

When  a  beautiful  lady,  accompanied  by  a  woman  not 
so  engaging,  got  out  of  one  of  Billy  Me.  Queene's  car 
riages,  with  Flapjack  Flinn  on  the  box  —  (Flapjack 
himself  belonged  in  the  neighborhood)  —  why,  it  was 
truly  thrilling!  And  the  first  order  of  groceries  de 
livered  at  the  bungalow  exceeded  any  single  order  ever 
taken  up  the  hill  in  Burns'  palmiest  days,  Mrs.  Casey 
insisted  to  her  friends  who  were  all  hanging  out  over 
their  little  front  fences  discussing  the  goings-on. 

If  Dr.  LeRoy  could  have  peeped  in  upon  his  case  of 
nervous  prostration  just  now,  he  would  have  been 
elated,  indeed,  over  the  wisdom  of  his  prescription. 
The  lady  personally  superintended  the  unpacking  of  a 
roll  of  rugs,  cases  of  pictures  and  boxes  of  linens  that 
had  come  through  promptly  by  express,  and  she  di 
rected  the  activities  of  the  scrub-woman  and  Mar 
tha. 

In  her  enthusiasm  she  so  forgot  herself  that  she 
actually  prepared  the  first  meal  alone,  and  smiled  a 
real  smile.  The  picture  of  herself  frying  eggs  and 
poking  up  a  fire  delighted  her.  She  had  poked  up  the 
library  fire  at  home,  when  she  felt  inclined,  but  she 
could  not  recall  ever,  in  all  her  conventional  life,  hav 
ing  had  any  arguments  with  a  kitchen  fire,  and  this 
seemed  a  treat,  some  way. 

After  the  work  of  settling  the  house  had  got  into  full 
swing,  they  came  with  the  telephone  —  two  men,  a 
horse  and  a  wagon.  Close  upon  their  departure,  ar 
rived  the  telephone  inspector.  For  the  first  time  the 


24         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

lady  noticed  the  instrument  and  wondered  why  it 
seemed  unfamiliar. 

"  What  is  that  dial  for,  and  that  circle  of  numbers 
—  what  are  they  for?  "  she  asked. 

The  young  man  looked  at  her  as  if  questioning  her 
seriousness,  then  replied,  "  Why,  lady,  they  are  to  get 
your  party  with,  of  course.  This  is  the  new  automatic 
phone  —  it's  what  you  ordered,  ain't  it?  J> 

"Did  I?"  she  asked,  in  a  puzzled  way.  "I  told 
the  clerk  at  the  hotel  I  wanted  a  telephone  and  he  gave 
me  a  blank  which  I  filled  out,  but  I  never  saw  a  tele 
phone  like  this.  How  does  one  work  it?  " 

"  Well,"  the  young  man  proceeded  to  give  her  a 
lesson,  "  to  begin  with,  it's  safe." 

"  Safe?  "  she  questioned,  as  though  for  the  first  time 
she  was  learning  that  explosives  were  stored  in  or 
dinary  telephones. 

"  Yes,"  he  went  on.  "  It's  safe  as  death.  No  Cen 
tral  to  overhear  you  planning  a  hold-up  or  talking  to 
your  best  friends  on  personal  matters.  They  have  the 
old  phone  here,  but  it's  out  of  date." 

It  all  seemed  amusing  and  unusual. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  like  this  machine,  when  I  grow 
accustomed  to  it,"  the  new  subscriber  remarked,  "  but 
it  surprises  me  rather  to  find  anything  so  progressive  in 
a  place  like  this.  I  have  always  fancied  a  mining  camp 
was  —  well,  what  shall  I  say?  " 

"Slow?"  the  young  man  completed  her  idea. 
"  Not  this  mining  camp,  lady!  If  you  undertook  to 
beat  this  Camp,  you  would  have  to  go  some !  " 

"How  delightful!"  she  said.  "Thank  you,  I 
think  I  understand  how  to  operate  the  new  telephone 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         25 

now.  I  will  try  to  get  a  meat  market,  and  see  what 
luck  I  have." 

"Well,  call  91  if  you  have  any  trouble,  lady  —  it 
gets  me  1  "  And  with  a  nice,  friendly  smile,  full  of  in 
terest  in  the  newcomer,  yet  without  impertinence,  the 
boyish  inspector  departed. 

At  last,  a  few  days  later,  the  bungalow  was  in  order. 

Its  occupant  stood  on  a  rare  old  oriental  rug  in 
front  of  a  splendid  wood  fire  in  the  great  living  room, 
and  surveyed  the  results  of  her  work.  Nothing  could 
have  been  more  attractive.  At  the  far  end  of  the  room 
was  a  buffet  well  dressed  with  silver  and  glass,  and  a 
small  round  dining  table  and  some  straight  chairs. 
Opposite  the  little  dining-room-in-a-corner  but  nearer 
the  fireplace,  stood  a  baby-grand  piano,  on  which  was 
an  oriental  embroidery  and  just  one  photograph  —  a 
large,  brown  print  of  a  commanding  looking  man, 
framed  in  a  plain  board  of  the  right  shade  to  bring  out 
the  good  points  of  the  picture.  "  He  looks  well 
there,1'  she  mused,  watching  the  lights  from  the  logs 
play  on  the  glass. 

She  liked  the  divan,  too,  which  stood  out  into  the 
room  to  one  side  of  the  hearth  —  it  was  so  luxurious 
with  all  the  big,  harmonious  pillows.  An  old  Flemish 
oil  above  the  mantel-piece  added  dignity  to  the  room, 
and  the  brass  candle-sticks  and  the  green  pottery  bowl 
full  of  red  roses  were  quite  enough  on  the  shelf,  and 
most  effective.  And  the  reading  table  with  a  lamp  and 
the  magazines,  and  the  Japanese  ivories,  looked  as 
though  somebody  had  lived  in  the  big  room  always. 

Eleanor  looked  over  her  new  home  with  pleasure, 
for  it  was  truly  charming.  She  walked  to  the  low  win- 


26         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

dows  and  parted  the  formal,  fresh  little  curtains  and 
looked  out.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and  it  was 
chilly  and  raining.  The  wonderful  mountains  were 
vague  and  lonely.  A  feeling  to  be  reckoned  with,  be 
gan  stealing  over  the  lady.  She  dropped  the  muslin 
curtains,  and  glanced  back  at  the  fascinating  room  — 
at  the  merry  fire,  at  the  silent  piano,  and  at  the  quaint 
mirror  hanging  above  her  desk.  Here  she  caught  the 
reflection  of  the  almost  hunted  expression  of  her  own 
eyes. 

Her  slender  fingers  began  to  toy  with  the  soft  ma 
terial  of  her  frock.  It  was  an  exquisite  gown  made  of 
the  palest  lavender,  and  soft  and  flowing,  its  only  or 
nament  being  a  strand  of  pearls  about  the  neck.  But 
the  gown  annoyed  her;  she  wished  she  had  worn  some 
thing  black  as  she  usually  did.  She  felt  self-conscious 
in  anything  but  black,  even  when  she  was  alone.  She 
ran  to  the  window  and  looked  out  once  more  at  the 
mountains,  now  like  sorrowful  shadows  miles  away  in 
the  rain.  She  pressed  her  finger-tips  against  her 
cheeks,  which,  with  her,  was  always  the  signal  of  dis 
tress.  Something  was  the  matter  —  most  awfully  the 
matter. 

"  Martha?"  she  called.  But  Martha  was  busy  in 
the  kitchen  and  did  not  hear  her.  There  was  no  reason 
at  all  for  calling  Martha,  so  the  lady  began  nervously 
pacing  up  and  down  and  all  around  the  great  room,  like 
a  caged  tigress  trying  to  reconcile  herself  to  the  inevi 
table.  She  nearly  upset  the  telephone  instrument  in 
one  of  her  sudden  turns. 

The  inspector's  words  came  back  to  her,  "  If  you 
have  any  trouble,  call  91  —  it  gets  me." 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         27 

"I  wonder  what  else  one  might  get?"  she  asked 
herself.  "I  shall  have  to  get  somebody  —  or  go 
mad!  It  all  comes  over  me  like  deep  water  —  the 
fact  that  I  am  here  all  alone  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  in  the 
rain!  It  was  all  well  enough  in  the  excitement  of  get 
ting  settled,  but  now  —  now  I  shall  go  mad  —  I  know 
I  shall  go  mad !  What  ever  possessed  me  to  do  such  a 
wild  thing  as  to  leave  every  connection  I  have  on  earth, 
and  come  away  out  here  where  I  do  not  know  a  soul? 
What  was  Dr.  LeRoy  thinking  of?  Did  he  plan  to 
drive  me  insane  ?  Martha  —  Martha!  " 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Evan,"  promptly  responded  Martha, 
bursting  through  the  swinging-door  in  a  hurry  lest  some 
thing  had  gone  very  wrong. 

"  Martha,"  she  said,  collecting  herself  sufficiently 
not  to  speak  too  loudly,  u  it  is  nearing  dinner  time. 
Don't  bring  anything  to  eat  in  here  —  I  cannot  stand  it. 
I  cannot  eat.  I  shall  go  mad  in  this  place  alone.  And 
do  try,  Martha,  not  to  call  me  just  '  Mrs.  Evan  ' !  I 
have  spoken  so  many  times  about  it." 

Martha  was  not  used  to  seeing  her  mistress  in  such 
an  emotional  state.  She  had  no  words  to  offer.  Un 
consciously,  she  rested  her  eyes  on  the  telephone.  Then 
the  lady  walked  straight  along  the  line  Martha's  gaze 
had  taken,  and  opened  the  directory  at  the  M's. 
"  That  will  do,  Martha,"  she  said,  gently. 

Like  a  child,  Eleanor  put  her  finger  in  the  various 
little  holes  as  the  inspector  had  taught  her  and  regis 
tered  7155.  She  pressed  the  button,  shyly,  and  lis 
tened. 

As  suddenly,  as  it  had  come,  the  desperate  mood  of 
the  moment  before  now  left  her. 


28         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  Is  this  7155  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes/'  came  back  over  the  wire. 

u  May  —  may  I  speak  with  Dr.  Marsden?"  she 
went  on,  with  hesitation. 

"  This  is  Dr.  Marsden,  speaking,"  came  the  reply. 

"  Oh!  "  she  gasped.     "  This  is  Mrs.  Ev— " 

"  Mrs.  Evanston?  How  are  you?"  The  doctor 
recognised  her  even  before  she  could  say  her  name. 

41  J  am  —  that  is  —  I'm  not,  Doctor !  "  she  told  him. 
"  I  am  not  exactly  ill,  you  know,  but  I  am  rather  worn 
out  after  the  week  of  fitting  us  into  place  up  here.  I 
am  never  especially  strong,  and  the  grey  day  added  to 
everything  else  has  upset  me." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  he  said,  sincerely. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  all  the  afternoon,  Doctor,  it 
would  do  me  good  to  see  you,  but  I  haven't  the  presump 
tion  to  send  for  you  professionally.  There  isn't  a  thing 
interesting  the  matter  with  me  —  I  am  only  going 
mad." 

The  doctor  laughed  boyishly. 

u  It  isn't  funny,  Doctor,"  she  pleaded,  "  really  it 
isn't.  It  has  all  come  over  me  —  the  rain,  you  know, 
not  knowing  a  single  voice  to  chat  with,  and  many  other 
things.  Have  you  a  prescription  for  unjustifiable 
boredom,  Doctor?" 

"  Something  to  eat  often  corrects  that  frame  of 
mind,"  he  suggested. 

"  Not  when  one  must  dine  alone,  Doctor,"  she  re 
plied,  with  a  strain  of  the  pathetic  in  her  voice  in  spite 
of  her  effort  to  appear  light-hearted. 

"  Well,  don't  dine  alone,  Mrs.  Evanston  —  ask 
somebody  in  by  all  means,"  he  advised. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         29 

"  I  don't  know  anybody  but  the  telephone  inspector, 
Doctor.  He  told  me  to  call  91  if  I  got  into  trouble  — 
but  I  fear  they  could  not  do  much  for  me  at  the  office !  " 

He  laughed  again. 

"  You  must  not  be  amused,  Doctor !  "  she  insisted. 
"  This  is  a  serious  plight  of  mine,  indeed.  But  I  might 
find  somebody  yet,  if  you  would  lend  me  your  aid.  I 
have  been  told  this  is  an  informal  sort  of  community. 
Is  it?  It  might  help  me  now  to  know." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it  is,  rather.  We  take  people  for 
their  excellent  intentions,  and  there  seems  to  be  com 
paratively  little  criticism.  We  have  only  one  rule  for 
society  at  large,  and  that  is :  Don't  ask  too  many  ques 
tions!  But  why  do  you  want  to  know  this?  " 

"  I  thought  I  understood  you  to  say  it  was  not  eti 
quette  to  ask  questions,  Doctor?"  she  reminded  him, 
quickly. 

"That's  so  —  you  have  caught  me!"  he  acknowl 
edged,  good-naturedly. 

"  Doctor?  "  the  lady  started  afresh. 

"  Yes?  "  he  encouraged  her. 

"  If  you  could  assist  in  keeping  me  from  going  crazy, 
would  you  do  it?  "  she  tested  him. 

"  I  would,  with  great  pleasure,"  he  assured  her. 

"  Well,  Doctor,  if  it  is  not  too  astonishing,  consid 
ering  our  brief  acquaintance,  would  you  —  I  mean,  will 
you,  dine  here  at  seven  o'clock  this  evening?  " 

"  Delighted,  Mrs.  Evanston ! "  he  promptly  ac 
cepted. 

"  It  is  good  of  you,  Doctor,"  she  said,  simply. 
"  And  good-bye  until  seven." 

"  Until  seven !  "  he  said. 


3o         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Eleanor  set  the  instrument  down,  and  hung  up  the  re 
ceiver,  with  a  smile.  "  Martha!"  she  called.  And 
when  the  maid  appeared,  she  continued,  "  Martha,  I 
think  it  would  be  best,  after  all,  for  me  to  have  a  bite  of 
dinner,  after  this  busy  day.  And  —  you  may  lay  the 
table  for  two,  Martha." 


CHAPTER  IV 

DR  MARSDEN  stopped  at  the  Quartz  Club  a  few 
moments  before  presenting  himself  at  the  bun 
galow  on  Copper  Hill.  It  would  not  be  fair  to  say  that 
he  dropped  in  at  the  club  for  any  particular  purpose, 
for  he  often  spent  the  last  hour  of  the  afternoon  here, 
but  still  the  young  man  was  quite  aware  of  his  oppor 
tunity  to  be  impressive. 

"  Hello,  Marsden!"  sang  out  Mr.  Barton  Colby, 
who,  with  no  little  difficulty,  had  got  his  automobile  to 
stand  where  he  wanted  it  on  the  slippery  pavement,  and 
had  followed  the  doctor  into  the  building.  "  Will  you 
join  me  at  dinner  to-night,  Doc?  " 

"Sorry!"  regretted  Dr.  Marsden,  with  an  expres 
sion  that  did  not  suit  his  word  at  all  —  he  looked,  in 
fact,  delighted  to  be  unable  to  dine  with  Colby.  "  I  am 
dining  out  this  evening,"  he  vouchsafed  his  friend,  by 
way  of  explanation. 

Colby's  sharp  young  eye  rested  on  his  friend's  dinner 
jacket.  The  men  in  the  Camp  were  more  than  aver 
age  lazy  about  dressing  for  dinner,  this  ceremony  usu 
ally  signifying  what  is  called  a  "  function,"  in  the  society 
columns. 

"What's  doing?"  ventured  Mr.  Colby,  although 
what  went  on  about  him  that  did  not  include  him,  never 
interested  him  —  so  he  believed. 

"  Oh,"  drawled  Marsden,  "  nothing  special  —  I'm 
just  dining  informally  with  a  lady."  And  with  this  the 
doctor  smiled,  and  left  young  Colby  pulling  off  his 

31 


32         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

gauntlets,  wondering  what  lay  at  the  bottom  of  this 
remarkable  proceeding  on  the  part  of  Dr.  Marsden. 
Mr.  Colby  ran  into  Mr.  Kerr  on  the  stairs  and  men 
tioned  the  episode. 

"Who's  the  lady?"  naturally  inquired  Mr.  Kerr. 
44  The  widow  ?" 

"By  George!"  smiled  Mr.  Colby.  "I  bet  it  is 
she!" 

"Talking  of  the  widow  —  again?"  pleasantly 
asked  Captain  Leonard,  who  had  taken  the  stairs  down, 
instead  of  the  automatic  elevator  which  was  new  and 
convincing  in  appearance,  but  which  stuck  between 
floors  half-hours  at  a  time,  often. 

"  Guilty!  "  replied  Kerr.  "  But  what  is  bothering 
me  is:  How  are  we  to  meet  her?  Marsden  is  such 
a  pig,  he  would  never  introduce  us  if  there  was  any 
avoiding  doing  so  —  he  always  monopolises  the  visit 
ing  girls  when  they  are  attractive.  Any  ideas,  you  fel 
lows?" 

Colby,  with  one  hand  on  his  hip  and  his  head  thrown 
back,  stood  smiling.  Some  persons  might  have  said  he 
was  grinning.  Certainly  he  gave  the  impression  of  one 
having  an  idea,  and  being  charmed  with  it.  "  I  think 
we  can  arrange  it,"  he  remarked,  with  an  air  of  assur 
ance. 

Colby's  unfailing  confidence  in  himself  was  never 
soothing  to  his  friends,  although  they  were  forced  to 
have  a  grim  regard  for  the  way  the  boy  managed  to 
substantiate  his  undertakings. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  dining  on  Copper  Hill,  too?" 
ventured  Mr.  Kerr,  with  some  spirit  verging  on  sar 
casm. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         33 

"  N-no,"  hesitated  the  boy.  "  I  fear  I  could  not 
spare  the  time  to-night  —  I  am  expecting  a  long-dis 
tance  telephone  call  any  minute.  But  after  I  get  it,  I 
may  find  a  way  to  run  in  at  Copper  Hill  for  a  few  mo 
ments.  So  long!  "  And  he  ran  up  the  stairs,  lightly. 

"  Just  what  makes  us  all  tolerate  that  youngster, 
beats  me !  "  remarked  Captain  Leonard. 

44  He  isn't  so  bad  —  you  can't  help  liking  him,"  Kerr 
defended  him.  "  He  is  undeniably  strong  in  certain 
ways.  He  is  one  in  a  thousand  for  making  good/' 

"  Making  good  —  rot!  "  decided  the  Captain.  "  I 
imagine  he  won't  make  good  this  time.  4  He'll  try  to 
run  in  at  Copper  Hill  later  ' —  ha-ha !  "  And  he 
passed  Mr.  Kerr  to  go  on  down  the  stairs. 

"  Don't  risk  any  real  money  on  his  not  making  good, 
Billy,"  Mr.  Kerr  called  after  him.  "  It's  ten  to  one 
you  and  I  will  be  used  in  helping  him  do  it,  if  neces 
sary." 

"  Well,  old  man,  the  drinks  are  on  me  if  Colby  calls 
at  Copper  Hill  this  evening!"  the  Captain  laughed 
back. 

Barton  Colby,  no  matter  what  they  said  of  him,  was 
a  young  man  whom  one  could  not  dismiss  with  a  sen 
tence.  At  the  age  of  twenty-six,  or  thereabouts,  he 
held  the  position  of  manager  of  one  of  the  most  im 
portant  mines  in  the  great  Northwest,  at  a  salary  that 
would  seem  a  good  deal  to  many  an  Eastern  man  of 
forty-five.  Socially,  Mr.  Colby  was  a  matter  of  opin 
ion.  Some  people  liked  him  —  everybody  noticed  him. 
It  was  generally  taken  for  granted  among  the  ladies 
that  his  presence  at  their  dinners  added  character  to  the 
entertainment,  which  idea  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely  young 


34         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Colby  shared,  himself.  This  partly  explained  a  subtle 
unpopularity  the  boy  enjoyed  among  the  men.  It 
seemed  to  amuse  the  young  man  to  feel  that  half  the 
population  would  like  to  throw  a  brick  at  him,  yet 
found  him  too  useful  or  too  amusing  to  take  the  chance 
of  doing  anything  active.  There  was  but  one  thing 
that  could  have  filled  young  Colby  with  disappointment 
—  that  was  being  ignored.  This  would  have  proved 
itself  too  much,  had  anybody  ever  tried  it  —  which,  so 
far  in  his  life  history,  nobody  ever  had. 

Some  of  these  things  Dr.  Marsden  was  trying  to 
analyse  for  the  entertainment  of  his  hostess  at  this  very 
moment,  in  the  soft-lighted  room  on  Copper  Hill,  with 
the  rays  from  the  open  fire  playing  on  the  long  ends  of 
the  table  cloth,  and  Martha  quietly  stepping  in  now  and 
then,  and  even  more  quietly  stepping  out  again. 

"  What  an  amusing  place  this  Camp  must  be !  "  ex 
claimed  the  lady,  with  interest.  "  I  am  sure  I  shall 
adore  it.  But  do  tell  me  something  of  the  women?  " 

"  Well,"  the  doctor  began,  "  let  me  see !  The  women 
are  —  are  rather  — " 

"  Yes?  "  she  helped  him  along. 

"  Well,  the  women  here  are  different  from  you,  for 
instance."  This  was  something  of  a  plunge,  but  the 
doctor  hoped  to  reach  some  safe  landing,  no  doubt. 

"  How  can  you  say  that,  Doctor,  when  you  know 
nothing  of  me?  "  She  held  him  back,  or  tried  to  do 
so. 

"  Well,"  he  started  again,  this  time  trying  to  explain 
himself  by  a  dissertation  on  the  Camp's  inhabitants, 
rather  than  by  trying  to  read  his  hostess,  in  which  at 
tempt  he  might  very  easily  blunder.  Dr.  Marsden  was 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         35 

a  clever  man,  in  his  own  way.  "  Well,  as  I  size  them 
up,  the  women  of  this  town  are  more  or  less  the  prod 
ucts  of  the  conditions  that  exist  in  this  part  of  the  coun 
try.  Most  of  them,  in  the  so-called  society  of  the 
Camp,  are  what  would  come  under  the  general  head  of 
'  smart.1  Their  clothes  are  made  in  New  York  and 
Paris,  and  their  portraits  are  done  in  London.  Those 
that  can't  afford  this,  just  omit  the  oil  paintings  and  go 
to  work  on  the  education  of  the  local  dressmakers." 

"  Lovely!  "  his  audience  encouraged  him. 

"  Then  they  race  through  life  pretty  hard/'  the  doc 
tor  continued.  "  They  say  it's  the  altitude  that  is  re 
sponsible  for  all  this  restlessness.  They  play  bridge 
for  alarming  stakes;  are  almost  as  conversant  with  the 
odour  of  Scotch  whisky  as  the  men,  and  have  their  tour 
ing  cars  driven  around  the  mountain  passes  as  fearlessly 
as  though  they  were  playing  with  toys  on  the  nursery 
floor.  I  don't  mean  to  be  critical,  you  understand,  but 
things  are  exceptional  here.  We  are  a  small  com 
munity  thrown  all  over  a  bunch  of  mountains  —  a  very 
long  way  from  the  puritanical  influences  of  the  old 
homestead,  as  it  were.  Here  we  are,  right  up  where 
they  manufacture  lightning  and  thunder,  and  no  wonder 
we  are  primitive.  We  get  our  living  out  of  the  ground, 
and  we  settle  our  arguments  with  our  fists  —  not  with 
diplomacy.  And  as  for  the  women,  those  that  belong 
here,  haven't  had  enough  to  do  since  the  Camp  struck 
it  rich;  and  those  that  are  out  here  temporarily  because 
their  engineer-husbands  must  work  here,  take  life  in  a 
mad  holiday  spirit.  A  kind  of  hardness  is  the  prevail 
ing  tone  in  us  all  —  you  will  see  it  for  yourself  before 
you  have  been  here  long." 


36         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  I  shall  not  take  you  literally,  Doctor.  You  are 
hard  to  please,  I  am  sure.  Besides,  you  are  flattering 
the  women  of  the  East  by  inference.  We  of  the  East 
—  we  differ  from  your  women,  probably,  only  in  being 
less  frank.  And  as  for  being  more  or  less  unconven 
tional,"  his  hostess  went  on,  with  a  purpose  of  her  own, 
"  I  am  sure  the  record  goes  to  the  Eastern  woman  on 
the  simple  grounds  of  my  having  asked  you  here  to 
night!  But  perhaps  your  being  a  physician  helps  out 
the  situation?  " 

"  I  can't  see  that  the  situation  needs  any  apology," 
the  guest  politely  responded.  "  But  if  it  did,  what 
would  my  being  a  physician  have  to  do  with  it?  " 

Now  it  was  the  lady's  turn. 

"  I  can't  say,  exactly,"  she  hesitated  prettily,  "  unless 
a  physician  is,  as  I  have  always  insisted  he  is,  different 
from  other  men.  He  is  generally  a  safe  sort  of  per 
son  because  he  leads  a  bigger  life  than  most  men,  and 
so  he  understands  people  and  things.  A  doctor  under 
stands.  And  it  is  the  greatest  comfort  in  the  world  to 
be  understood  —  isn't  it?  " 

Things  progressed  well,  and  presumably  the  dinner 
was  good,  although  neither  of  the  diners  noticed  it  par 
ticularly,  one  way  or  the  other. 

After  the  coffee  things  had  been  taken  away,  they 
naturally  wandered  over  to  the  piano,  where  the  lady 
made  an  adorable  picture  as  she  sat  on  the  bench  and 
unconsciously  improvised  little  rippling  airs. 

The  doctor's  head  was  full  of  questions  of  her,  but 
she  had  reminded  him  once  that  it  was  not  customary 
here  to  ask  a  lot  of  personal  questions,  and  he  abided 
his  time,  as  a  gentleman  should.  He  certainly  looked 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         37 

hard  enough  at  the  one  photograph  on  the  piano,  good 
ness  knows !  But  the  lady  volunteered  no  information 
—  she  just  toyed  with  the  soft  folds  of  her  frock. 

'  You  are  rather  nervous,  aren't  you?"  the  doctor 
asked,  standing  in  front  of  the  fireplace  with  a  good 
cigar,  getting  the  keenest  pleasure  out  of  studying  his 
beautiful  hostess  in  the  charming  setting  of  this  great, 
livable  room. 

;<  Why  do  you  ask?  "  she  wanted  to  know,  looking 
over  at  him,  sweetly. 

"  Fussing  with  your  necklace  made  me  think  so,"  he 
explained. 

"  My !  What  inveterate  observers  physicians  are !  " 
she  laughed.  And  this  was  all  the  answer  he  got  on 
this  venture. 

The  lady  sang  to  him  a  little,  her  fingers  running 
over  the  keys,  lightly.  She  did  not  attempt  anything 
difficult  —  just  one  or  two  simple  ballads.  But  al 
though  she  sang  very  softly,  she  suggested  greater 
depths  of  tone  and  bigger  songs.  She  gave  the  im 
pression  of  being  a  professional  songstress  who  did  not 
wish  to  be  taken  seriously  at  the  moment.  Possibly 
this  pose  is  unknown  in  great  singers?  Very  well  — 
then  the  lady  suggested  the  exception ! 

They  were  having  the  very  pleasantest,  cosiest,  most 
diverting  time  that  either  of  them  remembered,  when 
all  of  a  sudden  the  lady's  fingers  dropped  away  from 
the  keyboard,  and  the  last  sweet  note  of  her  song 
stopped  short.  She  sat  up  straight,  in  the  attitude  of 
one  listening  intently. 

"What  is  it?  "  quickly  asked  the  doctor. 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  question  in  every  line  of 


38         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

her  remarkably  expressive  self.  "  An  automobile,'1 
she  whispered,  as  if  to  herself,  and  only  half-convinced 
she  was  rightly  classing  what  she  fancied  she  heard. 

"  An  automobile?"  he  echoed,  incredulously.  "I 
should  say  not  —  not  unless  the  chauffeur  is  crazy.  It 
would  be  impossible  to  drive  a  machine  up  this  steep  hill 
in  these  heavy  roads,  I  should  say." 

Then  they  both  listened. 

Soon  the  merry  crackle  of  the  fire  was  broken  by  the 
unmistakable  noise  of  a  powerful  motor-car,  strug 
gling,  complaining,  but  still  forcing  itself  up  the  hill. 
They  glanced  at  each  other  full  of  fun  and  anticipation, 
for  there  was  a  hint  of  adventure  in  the  approaching 
sounds.  In  another  moment  the  car  had  reached  the 
top  of  the  hill,  shivered  a  last  reproach  and  come  to  a 
stop.  They  heard  the  power  run  down  and  the  breaks 
thrown  on. 

Next  came  a  man's  tread  on  the  steps,  and  they  fan 
cied  him  hunting  for  the  bell  —  which  he  evidently 
found,  for  Martha  promptly  responded  to  its  summons. 
The  lady  was  visibly  entertained,  for  she  did  not  know 
a  soul  in  the  Camp,  but  the  man  who  was  now  her  guest. 
And  the  doctor?  Well,  he,  too,  was  interested,  for 
nobody  knew  where  he  was  this  evening,  and  so  it  could 
not  be  a  call  for  him,  although  he  often  was  followed 
up  as  a  practicing  physician  is  apt  to  be. 

It  was  rather  odd,  wasn't  it? 

In  the  living  room  they  heard  a  nice  voice  saying  at 
the  door,  "This  is  Mrs.  Evanston's  house,  isn't  it? 
Yes?  Well,  may  I  ask  if  Dr.  Marsden  is  here?  And 
if  he  is,  may  I  speak  with  him  on  a  matter  of  profes- 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         39 

sional  importance?  No,  thank  you,  I  won't  come  in 
—  I'll  just  wait  here." 

A  flash  of  annoyance  shot  across  the  doctor's  face. 

A  flash  of  amusement  shot  across  his  hostess'  face, 
as  she  said,  "  Ask  the  gentleman  in,  Martha,"  so  that 
her  voice  carried  to  the  door  and  the  man  heard 
her.  He  stepped  in,  one  stride  bringing  him  through 
the  tiny  vestibule  into  the  big  room,  where  he  stood  in 
a  long  coat,  his  cap  in  hand,  manfully  trying  not  to  ap 
pear  too  pleased. 

As  the  lady  advanced  toward  him,  the  doctor  pulled 
himself  together,  and  said  stiffly,  "  Mrs.  Evanston,  may 
I  present  Mr.  Colby?  " 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Colby,"  she  said,  cordially 
extending  her  hand,  as  that  young  man  quickly  ripped 
off  his  driving  glove  to  receive  it. 

"I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,  Mrs.  Evanston!"  he 
began  sincerely.  "  This  seems  an  unwarrantable  intru 
sion,  I  know,  but  we  have  been  hunting  the  town  over 
for  the  doctor,  and  finally  somebody  had  the  inspiration 
to  telephone  the  Me.  Queene  stables  and  find  out  if  he 
had  ordered  a  carriage  this  evening,  and  if  so,  to  ask 
his  driver  where  he  had  left  him.  I  tried  to  get  you  by 
phone  —  but  you  haven't  one,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  it  was  installed  only  the  other  day. 
Won't  you  sit  down?"  He  intuitively  felt  that  the 
lady  was  almost  glad  to  see  him,  which  was  more  than 
the  boy  had  promised  himself,  a  lot  more,  indeed. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,  really,  and  I  do  hope  you  will 
forgive  us,"  he  went  on.  "  I  came  up  myself,  thinking 
that  if  the  cab  driver  had  made  a  mistake,  I  could  ex- 


40         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

plain  matters  to  you  better  than  a  messenger  boy  would. 
Even  with  the  chains  on,  I  thought  I  never  was  going 
to  make  your  hill." 

Then  turning  to  the  silent  doctor,  young  Colby  spoke 
with  excellent  self-control,  "  Billy  Leonard  has  met 
with  an  accident,  Marsden.  We  all  told  him  to  call 
Pickens  or  somebody  who  was  a  good  surgeon,  but  it's 
you  or  nobody  for  Cap;  and  as  he  is  in  some  pain,  I 
think  we  had  better  be  moving  on,  hadn't  we?  " 

The  lady  looked  very  lovely  and  very  distressed. 
"  Is  Mr.  Leonard  in  a  serious  condition?"  she  asked 
with  concern. 

Mr.  Colby  looked  grave.  If  it  were  an  effort  for 
him  to  do  so,  he  was  actor  enough  to  keep  the  fact  to 
himself.  "  I  don't  know,"  he  told  her  as  the  doctor 
scrambled  into  his  top  coat.  "  Anyway,  Dr.  Marsden 
is  a  fair  seamstress  —  he'll  get  the  Captain  fixed  up  all 
right.  And  again  let  me  express  my  regret  at  having 
to  break  in,  in  this  disturbing  way,  Mrs.  Evanston !  " 
And  he  held  out  his  hand,  most  politely. 

"Oh,  don't  think  of  that,  Mr.  Colby!"  she  reas 
sured  him.  "  And  if  it  isn't  asking  too  much  of  busy 
men,  I  wish  one  of  you  would  let  me  know  in  the  morn 
ing  how  Captain  Leonard  is?  " 

u  With  pleasure !  "  responded  young  Colby. 

"  Certainly,"  promised  the  doctor,  who  also  mum 
bled  something  about  his  delightful  dinner  and  hoping 
to  see  her  soon  again,  and  so  on. 

Although  it  was  still  drizzling  and  chilly,  the  lady 
stood  in  the  doorway,  with  the  light  back  of  her  throw 
ing  her  figure  into  relief,  while  Mr.  Colby  cranked  up 
his  engine,  and  the  doctor  took  his  seat  reluctantly. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         41 

"Good  night!"  she  called  after  them,  "and  even 
though  I  don't  know  Captain  Leonard,  still,  do  tell  him 
I'm  so  sorry!  " 

"  We'll  deliver  the  message.  Good  night  !  "  young 
Colby  sang  back  cheerily  through  the  darkness. 

The  doctor  was  a  human  thunder  cloud,  which  in 
wardly  delighted  Mr.  Colby,  as  he  skilfully  kept  the 
road  against  his  car's  persistent  inclination  to  skid  off 
and  roll  down  the  hill. 

"What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  Leonard?" 
growled  the  doctor,  when  at  last  they  had  reached  the 
road  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  right  side  up,  to  their 
relief. 

"  Broke  his  nose,"  Colby  told  him,  shortly. 

"Really?"  sniffed  the  doctor.  "One  would  sup 
pose  he  had  fractured  his  skull  at  least  from  your  so 
licitude.  Did  he  tell  you  to  come  up  on  Copper  Hill 
forme?" 

"  No,  Doc." 

After  they  had  bumped  into  a  wagon,  and  nearly 
caught  a  dog  and  at  last  had  got  into  a  decent  street,  the 
doctor  spoke  again,  with  emphasis.  "  If  there  is  any 
one  thing  that  makes  me  sicker  than  another,"  he  re 
marked,  "  it  is  to  hear  a  man  in  my  profession  called 


"  Excuse  me!  "  pleaded  Colby  with  mock  meekness. 
"  I  keep  forgetting  that  only  horse  doctors  and  geolo 
gists  will  stand  for  the  title." 

The  doctor  reverted  to  the  original  issue.  "  What 
possessed  you  to  look  for  me  on  Copper  Hill?"  he 
again  asked. 

"  I  didn't  have  to  look,"  the  boy  sweetly  informed 


42         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

him.     "  Everybody  all  over  town  knew  where  you  were 

—  it  was  a  cinch." 

"  Really!  "  sniffed  the  doctor  again,  although  a  smile 
was  lurking  around  the  corners  of  his  mouth  in  spite  of 
himself.  He  gave  thanks  it  was  too  dark  for  Colby  to 
see  him  distinctly.  He  cleared  his  throat  and  said, 
"  How  did  Cap  break  his  nose?  " 

"  How?  "  reflected  Colby,  whirling  his  car  into  the 
main  street  of  the  Camp.  "  Carelessly,  I  should  say 

—  Doctor." 

In  another  moment  Mr.  Colby's  great  roadster  was 
brought  up  outside  the  Quartz  Club,  and  the  two  men 
entered. 

"  Good  evening,  Marsden,"  remarked  Mr.  Crawford 
Mansfield  Kerr,  who  was  just  going  out  as  they  came 
in,  and  who  noted  with  a  broad  grin,  the  fact  that  Colby 
and  Marsden  evidently  had  arrived  together.  "  Per 
haps  you  will  join  me  for  a  drink  later?  " 

The  doctor  merely  nodded,  slightly  irritated  at 
Kerr's  stopping  him  to  wish  him  good  evening  when 
they  had  exchanged  greetings  on  the  subject  before  din 
ner. 

Unsoothing  also  were  Captain  Leonard's  twinkly 
eyes  —  one  each  side  of  his  red  and  swollen  nose,  when 
the  doctor,  with  young  Colby  at  his  heels,  closer  than  a 
brother,  entered  the  attractive  apartments  of  Mr. 
Crathorne  Stone  and  Billy  Leonard  on  the  top  floor  of 
the  club  house. 

"How  did  you  do  this?"  abruptly  demanded  the 
physician. 

"  I  was  having  a  wrestling-skufHing  match  with 
Thorny  here  on  the  polished  floor,  and  I  pitched  into 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         43 

the  window  sill  —  all  my  own  fault.  How  did  Barton 
find  you  so  quickly?  "  the  Captain  replied. 

The  doctor  ignored  the  matter  of  Colby's  having 
found  him,  and  remarked,  dryly,  going  into  the  bath 
room  to  wash  his  hands  before  making  an  examination, 
"  Bright  stunt  —  rough-housing  about  on  a  polished 
floor." 

"  Say,  Doc,"  broke  in  young  Colby,  "  you're  not  his 
poppa.  He  is  paying  you  to  set  his  nose.  His  ideas 
of  brilliancy  were  already  set  before  I  went  to  the  trou 
ble  of  locating  you." 

Nobody  took  this  up,  so  Mr.  Colby  turned  to  the 
patient  whose  distress  he  lightened  for  a  second  by  re 
marking,  u  The  widow  said  she  was  ever  so  sorry,  Cap, 
and  for  us  to  say  so  for  her.  She  asked  me  to  send  her 
word  in  the  morning  if  you  were  still  alive." 

"  Who  is  '  the  widow  '?  "  asked  Mr.  Stone,  who  was 
apparently  sincere  in  asking  for  information. 

"  Ask  the  doctor,"  suggested  the  boy.  u  She's  a 
friend  of  his." 

"  She  is  a  Mrs.  Evanston  from  New  York,  Thorny," 
the  doctor  told  him,  while  registering  his  own  telephone 
number  so  that  he  could  have  his  office  boy  bring  over 
his  bag.  "  She  is  a  charming  young  woman  who  is 
exceedingly  pretty  and  who  seems  to  have  a  lot  of 
coin.  She  is  living  in  the  Burns  bungalow  on  Copper 
Hill  at  present.  I'll  take  you  to  call  some  day,  if  you 
like." 

"  Thanks,"  replied  Crathorne  Stone,  who  never  had 
cared  especially  for  Dr.  Marsden,  and  who  was  hardly 
pleased  by  his  somewhat  patronising  kindness.  "  Nice 
of  you,  but  I'm  not  much  of  a  fusser,  you  know." 


44         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  I  know  you  don't  care  for  girls,  Thorny,"  Colby 
cut  in,  "  but  you'll  like  this  one." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  gloomily  volunteered  Captain  Leonard 
from  the  depths  of  a  big  chair  and  his  physical  discom 
fort.  "  Thorny  does  not  pose  —  he  honestly  doesn't 
like  women." 

"  He'd  like  this  one,  I  say !  "  insisted  Colby.  Then 
he  went  on,  feeling  himself  no  longer  needed,  "  I  think 
I'll  say  good  night.  Hope  you'll  get  some  sleep,  Cap. 
Til  call  you  up  in  the  morning  to  collect  the  thanks  due 
me  for  finding  the  doctor.  I  rather  enjoyed  it,  al 
though  it  is  a  nasty  night  for  motoring  up  mountain 
sides.  Good-bye,  everybody !  " 

When  at  last  Marsden's  equipment  had  arrived  and 
he  had  done  all  he  could  to  make  Captain  Leonard  com 
fortable,  and  had  said  good  night  himself,  Crathorne 
Stone  closed  the  door  and  said  to  his  room-mate, 
"  What's  the  joke  on  the  doctor,  Billy?  Barton  looked 
ready  to  burst  with  glee  at  his  expense." 

"  He  probably  was  ready  to  pop  —  he  loves  so  to  be 
in  things.  You  see,  Barton  vaguely  boasted  that  he 
would  meet  the  *  widow,'  as  they  call  her,  to-night. 
And  as  usual,  fate  has  helped  him  make  good.  If  fate 
hadn't  taken  a  hand,  he  would  have  contrived  a  way  to 
carry  the  point  alone,  I  suppose.  He  is  an  enterprising 
kid.  But  I  have  to  smile  when  I  think  my  misfortune 
was  the  ill  wind  he  was  looking  for.  It's  one  on  me, 
certainly." 

A  tap  was  heard  on  the  hall  door,  which  Mr.  Stone 
answered.  It  was  the  darkey  boy  Sam  with  a  card  and 
a  pencil  on  a  small  tray. 

The  boy  showed  two  rows  of  big  white  teeth,  and 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         45 

catching  sight  of  the  Captain  with  his  face  bandaged  up, 
said,  "  Mr.  Kerr's  compliments,  Cap'n  Leonard,  and  he 
says  he  won't  bother  you  in  person  this  evening  owing 
to  the  accident  and  your  wanting  to  go  to  bed,  maybe. 
But  what  can  he  send  you  up  to  drink,  sir,  and  will 
you-all  please  be  so  good  as  to  sign  the  check,  sir?  He 
done  told  me  the  drinks  for  the  crowd  were  on  you,  sir." 


CHAPTER  V 

TV/TR.  BARTON  COLBY  attended  to  business  the 
•*•*•*-  next  morning  with  what  earnestness  he  could,  con 
sidering  the  fact  that  so  much  of  his  attention  was  con 
centrated  upon  his  watch.  He  was  waiting  for  it  to 
be  half  past  ten.  After  rather  a  longer  time,  seem 
ingly,  than  it  usually  requires  the  hands  to  get  so  far, 
it  became  this  conservative  hour.  Mr.  Colby  turned  to 
the  telephone  on  his  desk  and  registered  1778,  having 
got  this  number  from  "  Information."  With  a  smile 
it  was  a  pity  for  anyone  to  miss,  he  pressed  the  button, 
and  said,  "  May  I  speak  with  Mrs.  Evanston,  if  it  is  not 
too  early?  " 

"  This  is  she,  Mr.  Colby.     Good  morning." 

"  Good  day  to  you!  "  he  joyously  said.  "  But  how 
do  you  know  you  are  speaking  to  Mr.  Colby?  " 

Eleanor  smiled  to  herself,  as  she  realised  how  simple 
it  was.  She  knew  it  must  be  Colby,  because  it  was  not 
Dr.  Marsden;  and  besides  these  two,  she  knew  no  one 
in  the  Camp.  But  she  seldom  committed  herself,  so 
she  replied,  "Why,  surely  it  is  not  difficult,  is  it?  I 
heard  the  voice  only  last  evening,  you  know." 

"  It  is  very  flattering  of  you  to  remember  it,"  he 
declared.  Then  he  went  on,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
Captain  Leonard  rested  well  last  night,  and  is  on  the 
high  road  to  recovery  already,  although  he  is  much 
annoyed  at  having  to  breathe  through  his  mouth  —  it 
interferes  with  his  natural  rapidity  of  speech,  and  the 
Captain  dearly  loves  to  talk." 

46 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         47 

"Why  must  he  breathe  through  his  mouth?"  she 
inquired. 

"  Well,  Marsden  has  a  theory  that  surgical  cases  get 
on  better  if  they  take  in  their  wind  this  way  —  he  is 
very  advanced  in  his  methods.  He  stuffed  up  poor 
Leonard's  nose  with  cotton  wads,  or  maybe  they  were 
gun  wads  —  I  can't  say  exactly." 

"  Really?  "  she  questioned  him  in  a  bewildered  little 
way.  "  Very  unusual  thing  to  do,  isn't  it?  What  hap 
pened  to  Captain  Leonard?  " 

"  He  broke  his  nose,"  the  boy  sweetly  enlightened 
her. 

"  Oh!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  might  have  known  just 
to  look  at  you  that  you  are  fond  of  teasing." 

"  You  didn't  get  a  very  good  look  at  me,"  he  in 
formed  her,  graciously.  Then,  as  is  becoming  in  young 
men,  especially  attractive  young  men,  Mr.  Colby  tact 
fully  drew  the  lady's  thoughts  away  from  himself. 
"  How  do  you  like  our  Camp?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  is  not  a  fair  question,"  she  challenged  him. 
"  I  don't  know  the  Camp  yet;  and  besides,  I  am  sur 
prised  at  your  asking  anything  so  stereotyped.  What 
could  one  possibly  say  to  a  native  of  a  place,  if  she 
happened  not  to  like  his  home?" 

"  Tell  the  truth  at  any  cost !  "  he  urged  her.  "  You 
won't  hurt  anybody's  feelings  here.  None  of  us  are 
natives,  as  you  call  us.  We  know  it's  a  God-forsaken 
looking  hole,  although  we  forget  to  notice  it  until  some 
stranger  comes  out  here  and  at  once  drops  into  a  des 
perate  frame  of  mind,  and  starts  in  staring  out  some 
where  beyond  the  mountains." 

"  Do  the  strangers  do  these  things?  " 


48         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

1  Yes  —  unless  they  do  something  a  lot  worse,"  he 
cynically  told  her. 

"  I  must  be  an  original  stranger,  then,  for  I  will 
confide  in  you  that  I  think  I  like  the  Camp  —  what  I 
have  seen  of  it,"  the  lady  truthfully  expressed  herself. 

"  That's  good  to  hear,"  the  boy  assured  her.  "  But 
you  say  *  what  you  have  seen  of  it ' —  haven't  you  seen 
it  all  —  all  the  lean  cows  that  graze  around  through 
town,  feeding  on  the  sandy  surface  of  hope  —  on  the 
weedless  ground  and  the  rocks  and  tin  cans?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't  seen  it  all  yet.  I  have  been  too  busy 
getting  settled,  and  as  yet  I  know  very  few  people.  I 
am  a  little  timid  about  walking  out  of  town  alone  after 
reading  the  headlines  in  your  papers,  and  somebody 
told  my  maid  we  never  ought  to  leave  the  house  unpro 
tected,  so  she  cannot  go  out  with  me.  But  I  shall  ride 
later  on,  and  then  — " 

"  The  best  way  to  see  the  place,  is  in  an  automobile," 
he  cut  in.  "  I've  got  a  machine  that  can  go  anywhere  a 
Rocky  Mountain  goat  can." 

"That's  good!  "she  laughed. 

"  It  might  be,  if  it  weren't  so  lonesome,"  he  com 
plained.  "  The  men  won't  go  out  of  the  city  limits 
with  me,  because  they  want  to  work  every  minute ;  and 
I  don't  care  for  girls." 

"  What  a  pity!  "  she  said.  "  Aren't  some  of  them 
appealing?  " 

"  Well,  there  is  only  one  here,  really.  The  rest  are 
just  squabs  —  young  things  with  two  adjectives  — 
*  cute '  and  *  fierce.'  They  don't  speak  to  you  for  a 
week  if  you  don't  write  yourself  down  for  a  dance,  and 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         49 

then  they  cut  the  dance,  if  you  do  take  it.  You  know 
how  they  act?  " 

"  You  will  think  all  this  very  charming  —  when 
you're  fifty,  Mr.  Colby,"  she  encouraged  him.  "  But 
tell  me  about  the  one  girl?  " 

"Stella  Montgomery?  Well,  Stella  is  tall  and 
blond  and  slim  —  and  independent.  She  wears  hats 
three  sizes  bigger  than  were  ever  before  seen  in  civili 
sation,  and  generally  she  has  a  *  beauty-box '  dangling 
from  a  long  silver  chain,  which  is  either  in  her  hand  or 
lost;  and  the  entire  population  of  the  Camp  is  just 
ducking  out  of  the  way  of  this  thing,  as  Stella  swings 
around,  or  else  it  is  out  hunting  for  it.  But  Stella  can't 
abide  me.  It  is  a  very  hard  life  for  a  bachelor,  here," 
he  assured  her,  on  a  broad  grin. 

"  I  see  it  is,"  she  condoled  with  him,  sympathetically, 
smiling  also. 

"  But  I  must  not  keep  you  all  the  morning,"  he  re 
proved  himself.  "  I  called  up  only  to  tell  you  of  the 
Captain." 

"  It  was  good  of  you,  and  I  am  so  glad  it  was  noth 
ing  more  serious,"  she  said. 

"  Some  day,  perhaps  you  will  take  a  look  at  the 
Camp  from  my  car?  "  he  ventured. 

"  Some  day,"  she  vaguely  promised.  u  And  thank 
you.  Good-bye." 

Life  certainly  promised  amusement  enough  for  the 
brief  time  Eleanor  intended  stopping  in  the  Camp;  and 
when  she  reflected  upon  the  remarkable  way  she  was 
making  acquaintances,  she  smiled.  But  there  were 
moments  when  this  new  plaything  of  being  out  alone 


50         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

in  the  world,  on  a  rest-cure,  mild  adventure  sort  of  an 
expedition,  palled  upon  her. 

She  belonged  in  a  conventional  groove  in  New  York 
life,  narrowed  down  very  much  by  her  having  been  in 
mourning  for  a  considerable  time.  She  lead  an  inac 
tive  existence  and  had  seemed  content  with  it,  until  she 
found  herself  in  this  strange,  crude,  western  mining 
camp.  To  her  surprise  she  no  longer  wanted  to  sit 
still  —  she  wanted  to  be  doing  something.  A  calm 
contemplation  of  the  picturesque  life  of  the  Camp,  did 
not  seem  to  satisfy  her  —  she  vaguely  wanted  to  be  a 
part  of  the  life,  herself. 

Her  own  mind  failed  to  divert  her  to-day.  She  was 
forced  to  acknowledge  to  herself  that  she  had  too  few 
resources.  She  never  had  taken  her  music  seriously; 
she  had  never  gone  in  for  directed  reading  of  any  sort; 
her  fashionable  education  had  left  her  nothing  worth 
while;  she  never  maintained  any  correspondence  to 
speak  of,  having  no  near  relatives,  and  few  intimate 
friends.  She  had  always  been  very  rich,  and  very 
much  protected  from  all  actual  work.  Eleanor  was 
everything  that  was  lovely,  but  little  that  was  deep. 

Some  of  these  things  were  pelting  her  to-day,  and  she 
felt  adrift  and  alone. 

All  of  this,  and  much  more,  Eleanor's  physician  had 
told  her  during  the  two  years  she  had  been  his  patient. 
He  had  been  driven  to  harsh  words  like  "  egotist," 
"  hypochondriac "  and  "  good-for-nothing,"  but  she 
had  scarcely  listened  to  him,  much  less  heeded  his  warn 
ings.  Her  mother  had  always  stood  between  her  only 
daughter  and  all  responsibility,  putting  the  family 
wealth  between  the  girl  and  work,  between  her  and 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE          51 

study;  and  once  she  went  so  far  as  to  wedge  wealth  in 
between  the  girl  and  fair  action.  But  she  called  it 
sparing  Eleanor  pain,  and  as  the  girl's  mother  she  felt 
she  had  the  right.  She  gave  this  beloved  daughter 
everything  on  earth  but  the  chance  to  develop  her  own 
character.  This  she  fought  with  all  of  a  woman's 
ingenuity  —  in  the  name  of  her  love  for  her  child. 

And  now  the  time  had  come  —  that  time  which  the 
mother  had  forgot  to  defend  her  child  against  —  the 
time  when  the  child  was  alone,  with  nothing  to  help 
her,  nothing  to  turn  to,  nothing  to  work  for,  nothing  to 
take  life  and  death  with  —  but  money. 

The  wise  man  who  was  her  physician  knew  these 
things,  just  as  he  knew  his  own  voice  was  too  gentle 
with  her  —  and  he  knew  that  to  throw  the  frail  girl 
out  into  conditions  that  were  as  different  from  those 
that  had  always  sheltered  her,  as  could  be  found,  was 
practically  the  only  thing  that  would  bring  her  to  her 
self;  so  he  turned  to  the  Camp  as  a  possible  solution  of 
some  of  the  difficulties  —  and  he  chose  the  place  well. 

The  Camp  was  vital.  Here  was  nothing  to  guard 
the  individual  from  life  at  first  hand.  People  lived  in 
the  Camp,  and  sometimes  they  even  went  so  far  in  their 
living,  as  to  die.  In  fact,  funerals  were  the  one  de 
pendable  social  diversion  —  somebody  was  out  being 
buried  every  day  of  the  world,  and  to  be  sure  of  getting 
Me.  Queene  and  O'Hara's  new  ten  thousand  dollar 
hearse,  one  had  to  speak  ahead  from  the  moment  the 
ill-one  showed  alarming  symptoms.  But  the  deaths 
were  usually  from  violent  accident  in  the  mines  and 
smelters,  or  from  raging  disease  that  settled  matters  up 
promptly.  Nobody  in  the  Camp  ever  died  of  ennui, 


52         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

for  the  mere  lack  of  an  audience  to  listen  to  his  woes. 
In  order  to  perish  with  some  negative  ailment  like  a 
"  broken  "  heart,  or  nervous  prostration,  one  requires 
the  constant  fanning  of  sympathy.  Nobody  had  any 
sympathy  here,  except  for  himself. 

The  little  New  Yorker's  cure  was  beginning  when  she 
remarked  to  herself  after  luncheon,  that  for  a  young 
woman  to  have  to  debate  with  herself  upon  whether  or 
not  she  ought  to  use  her  strength  walking  about  a  dusty, 
ugly  little  mountain  town,  and  then  climb  a  hill  at  the 
end  (which  might  tire  her  too  much  to  enjoy  her  din 
ner)  was  simply  nothing  short  of  slavery!  Dr. 
LeRoy  had  been  wiser  than  he  knew. 

So  Eleanor  put  on  her  hat  and  coat  and  made 
straight  for  "  the  city,"  as  the  tradespeople  called  the 
few  blocks  that  constituted  the  business  district  of  the 
Camp.  It  took  her  about  twenty  minutes  to  walk  over, 
and  there  she  soon  found  herself  taking  pleasure  in 
examining  the  windows  of  a  very  good-looking  dry 
goods  shop.  She  turned  to  go  on,  when  a  cow 
sauntered  by  her  —  right  out  in  the  main  street  —  ap 
parently  bent  upon  going  to  the  post  office !  And  all 
about  her,  everywhere,  were  men  lounging  in  front  of 
cigar  stores  and  saloons,  harmlessly  taking  in  the  fresh 
air  and  attending  to  their  own  affairs.  These  were  the 
miners  off  shift  —  there  was  a  saying  that  five  thou 
sand  miners  were  asleep,  five  thousand  at  work  and  five 
thousand  hanging  out  in  front  of  the  saloons.  The 
men  were  always  in  these  places  —  three  alternating 
shifts  of  them.  They  did  not  seem  dangerous  at  all. 
The  stranger  thought  it  odd  they  took  so  little  notice 
of  the  passersby,  and  were  so  law-abiding  generally. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         53 

It  wasn't  wild  and  woolly  at  all,  except  for  some  Indian 
squaws  selling  beaded  buckskin  things  on  the  curbing. 

Turning  down  a  side  street,  the  lady  came  upon  a 
"  Photograph  Studio, "  formerly  a  log  cabin,  but  now 
very  grand  with  a  whole  side  mostly  in  glass,  for  busi 
ness  reasons.  In  the  corner  of  the  well-swept,  dirt 
yard,  was  a  show-case  full  of  rather  finely-done  photo 
graphs,  which  she  stopped  to  look  over.  The  first  real 
cow  puncher  she  ever  saw  delayed  her  examination  of 
the  pictures  —  she  caught  the  little  sound  of  his  spurs 
as  he  lazily  slouched  on  his  jogging  range  pony. 
When  he  disappeared  around  a  corner,  Eleanor  noted 
all  the  handsome  dresses  in  the  photographs.  Many 
of  them  belonged  here,  she  was  sure  —  they  could  not 
all  be  pictures  of  passing  actresses.  She  stepped 
around  to  see  what  was  on  the  walls  of  the  part  of  the 
case  that  faced  the  other  street. 

Here  —  quite  alone  —  was  a  large  portrait  of  a 
young  man  with  a  fine  head  and  lots  of  blond  hair,  a 
determined  jaw  and  splendid,  straightforward  eyes. 

Eleanor  sprang  back,  startled  and  not  believing  her 
own  eyes  —  the  likeness  was  so  astonishingly  like  that 
of  the  man  on  her  piano.  She  longed  to  ask  the  pic 
ture  thousands  of  questions.  She  studied  the  eyes,  but 
they  were  recorded  at  something  a  little  above  and  a 
little  beyond  the  person  looking  at  them.  Had  they 
been  real  eyes,  she  could  have  drawn  their  gaze  to  hers, 
but  they  were  only  picture  eyes  on  heavy  brown  paper. 

She  looked  at  the  mouth.  "  Stubborn!  "  she  whis 
pered  to  herself;  "stubborn!11  She  reached  up  to 
touch  the  picture,  but  her  gloved  hand  hit  only  the 
glass  of  the  case,  and  this  recalled  to  her  the  fact  that 


54         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

she  was  in  a  public  street,  and  must  be  careful  not  to 
attract  attention  to  herself.  But  she  was  intensely  ab 
sorbed,  and  spoke  to  herself  through  her  teeth  in  a 
small  voice  partly  humourous,  partly  sad,  yet  a  shade  ir 
ritated,  "  I  wonder  how  on  earth  that  man  ever  got 
into  a  place  like  this?  " 

"  What'd  you  say,  lady?  "  asked  a  street  urchin,  as 
suming  she  had  addressed  him. 

"I  said  somebody  had  a  stubborn  mouth!"  she 
snapped  at  him. 

"  Did  that  mean  you'd  please  stake  me  to  buy  some 
papers,  lady?  My  father  he  ain't  had  any  work  since 
he  got  hurt  in  the  mines;  my  mother,  she's  been  sick, 
and  — " 

The  lady  whirled  on  him,  sharply.  "  Don't  beg!  " 
she  commanded  him.  "  I  hate  a  beggar  in  any  class  of 
society.  If  you  want  to  earn  some  money,  go  up  on 
the  top  of  Copper  Hill  and  tell  the  maid  at  the  back 
door,  you  came  to  chop  up  some  kindling." 

The  youngster  stared  at  her  in  open  amazement,  but 
he  managed  to  gasp,  "  Gee !  I  ain't  had  no  such  dope  as 
that  handed  to  me  since  we  struck  the  Camp !  " 

But  the  stranger  did  not  hear  him  —  she  knew  noth 
ing  beyond  the  big  photograph  and  the  things  it 
brought  up  in  her  mind.  She  hurried  home  with  its 
image  firmly  fixed  in  her  memory,  and  every  few  blocks 
she  murmured  something  about  stubbornness. 


CHAPTER  VI 

1I7HETHER  cordiality  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  or 
**  curiosity,  one  can  hardly  say  —  but  at  any  rate, 
a  certain  fine  afternoon  found  one  of  Me.  Queene's 
carriages  standing  at  the  bungalow  door,  with  one  of 
Me.  Queene's  smartest  drivers  huddled  up  on  the  box, 
his  feet  on  the  dashboard,  his  coat  buttoned  up  wrong, 
his  hat  tilted  over  his  nose,  snoozing  in  the  sun.  The 
horses  slouched  at  different  angles  in  their  harnesses, 
and  plainly  showed  themselves  glad  of  the  chance  to 
get  their  wind  back  after  the  mean  climb.  Me. 
Queene's  carriages  were  used  in  the  Camp,  to  get  to 
given  places  in,  not  to  ornament  the  town  or  to  set 
the  fashion  and  form  for  the  Paris  horse  show.  Any 
one  not  caring  for  the  general  appearance  of  a  Me. 
Queene  turnout,  was  at  liberty  to  walk  if  he  wished  — 
neither  Me.  Queene,  nor  the  driver,  nor  the  hack,  nor 
the  horses,  nor  the  townsfolk  cared  a  snap  one  way  or 
the  other.  It  was  all  in  a  nice  October  day. 

Inside  were  two  ladies,  calling.  One  of  them  — 
chatty,  friendly,  observing  and  well  gowned  in  brown 
velvet  and  yellow  plumes,  was  Mrs.  Galvin  St.  John, 
known  as  the  staunchest  of  friends  by  many  people,  and 
as  "  a  leader  in  our  most  select  social  circles  "  by  the 
Camp  at  large,  thanks  to  the  society  column  and  the 
truth.  She  had  gracefully  explained  the  visit  by  tell 
ing  her  hostess  that  Mr.  Colby  had  spoken  with  such 
enthusiasm  of  her,  the  Camp's  new  acquisition,  that 
she  and  Miss  Montgomery  had  taken  it  upon  them 
selves  to  call. 

55 


56         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

To  this  introduction,  Eleanor  rose  hospitably.  She 
was,  indeed,  very  glad  to  see  the  ladies. 

Miss  Montgomery  was  tall  and  slender,  blond  and 
thirty-odd,  as  Mr.  Colby  had  described  her.  She  wore 
blue  broadcloth,  and  a  hat  that  was  got  sidewise 
through  an  ordinary  doorway,  and  sidewise,  only.  On 
the  end  of  the  silver  chain  on  her  wrist  was  one  of  those 
silver  contrivances  that  contain  a  little  of  everything 
but  hot  and  cold  running  water  —  powder,  car-fare, 
mirror,  and  odds  and  ends  such  as  love-letters.  Stella's 
exact  age  was  not  known  —  fortunately.  If  it  had 
been,  then  one  of  the  ever-ready  topics  of  conversation 
in  the  Camp,  would  have  been  lost.  But  Miss  Mont 
gomery  was  handsomer  than  Eleanor  had  pictured  her 
in  her  mind. 

"  It  was  kind  of  Mr.  Colby  to  mention  me,"  the 
New  Yorker  said,  by  way  of  opening  up  some  mutual 
interest. 

"  He  is  a  dear  boy,  Barton  Colby,1'  Mrs.  St.  John 
loyally  assured  her,  taking  a  sly  glance  at  her  compan 
ion,  and  adding,  "  even  if  Stella  can't  stand  him." 

"  Can't  stand  him?"  echoed  the  hostess,  in  a  little 
way  of  her  own  that  invariably  led  people  to  talk 
more  on  all  subjects  than  they  intended  to  do. 

"  Well,  hardly  that,"  Miss  Montgomery  defended 
herself.  "  But  it  is  true  that  I  am  not  so  keen  for  him 
as  Mrs.  St.  John  is.  Mr.  Colby  isn't  altogether  popu 
lar  here  —  he  is  rather  too  full  of  his  own  importance, 
and  is  apt  to  tell  you  how  unbecoming  pink  is  to  you, 
and  how  you  could  make  your  little  parties  a  success !  " 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all,  Stella !  "  Mrs.  St. 
John  seemed  to  take  the  criticism  to  heart  a  little. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         57 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  Barton,  except  that 
he  is  young  and  prosperous  and  a  little  spoiled.  Surely 
you  must  acknowledge  that  he  is  bright  as  he  can  be?  " 

"  As  bright  as  you  will  let  him  be,"  corrected  Miss 
Montgomery,  in  a  tone  that  implied  depth  of  experi 
ence,  "  and  I  have  known  him  to  be  even  brighter 
than  that." 

But  something  was  interesting  Miss  Montgomery  a 
great  deal  more  than  Mr.  Colby  was  at  the  moment, 
and  this  was  the  brown  photograph  on  the  piano.  She 
looked  at  it  closely,  yet  with  an  attempt  to  seem  casual. 
"  AHisted?"  she  ventured. 

And  this  was  a  mining  camp!  Eleanor  smiled 
faintly  at  the  incongruities  —  a  town  where  a  cow 
roamed  the  business  streets  if  it  pleased  her  to  do  so; 
where  great,  ugly  dumps  backed  right  up  against  fine 
houses  —  a  town  undermined  by  one  thousand  miles  of 
underground  workings;  a  town  where  lived  the  women 
who  had  helped  mould  the  Camp's  fortunes  —  women 
who  nowadays  bought  their  clothes  in  Paris,  and  had 
themselves  photographed  by  Histed! 

Eleanor  looked  at  Miss  Montgomery,  with  her  soft 
brown  eyes  that  never  seemed  to  see  half  as  much  as 
they  really  did,  and  she  replied,  "  Yes  —  that  portrait 
was  made  by  Histed,  and  it  is  one  of  his  best  bits  of 
work,  I  think.  What  wonderful  effects  he  gets  with 
jewels,  doesn't  he?  See  the  way  he  has  brought  out 
that  pearl  in  the  scarf?  " 

"  I  see,"  remarked  Miss  Montgomery.  "  He  did 
me  in  white  satin  —  and  it  was  the  only  time  the  ma 
terial  ever  looked  well  on  me.  This  picture  is  a  good 
deal  the  type  of  young  Stone  here,  isn't  it?  " 


$8         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"Mr.  Stone?"  repeated  Eleanor,  with  that  simple 
little  trick  of  hers  that  never  failed  to  draw  people  out. 

"  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  is  the  best  looking  young  man 
in  the  Camp,"  Mrs.  St.  John  explained  to  her.  "  Be 
sides,  he  is  exceptionally  attractive.  You  will  like 
him  very  much,  if  you  ever  — " 

"  If  she  ever  meets  him,"  Miss  Montgomery  finished 
the  sentence  with  sceptical  humour. 

"If  I  ever  meet  him?"  the  hostess  furthered  the 
conversation. 

"  He  is  rather  a  recluse,"  Mrs.  St.  John  went  on, 
obligingly. 

'*  We  all  dangle  before  him  the  most  alluring  invita 
tions,"  Miss  Montgomery  took  up  the  thread,  "  but  he 
is  always  too  busy  to  do  anything  more  than  send  a 
hurried  note  or  some  flowers  with  his  regrets." 

"  The  next  day  we  are  apt  to  hear  the  dear  fellow 
has  been  ill,"  sympathetically  added  Mrs.  St.  John. 

"  And  two  days  after  this,"  commented  Miss  Mont 
gomery,  "  we  are  apt  to  hear  that  this  report  was  one 
of  Barton  Colby's  jokes,  and  that  Mr.  Stone  was  play 
ing  pool  at  the  time,  and  did  not  care  to  drop  his 
game."  It  was  evident  that  Miss  Montgomery  had 
been  out  several  seasons. 

The  newcomer  was  all  interest  —  it  was  written  in 
every  atom  of  her  pose  and  her  expression;  and  as 
captivated  audiences  are  rare  and  pull  one's  prettiest 
efforts  forth,  Mrs.  St.  John  rushed  on  to  amuse  her. 
"  Nobody  knows  why  he  won't  go  out,"  she  said. 
"  Mr.  Stone  came  out  here  to  Montana  a  couple  of 
years  or  so  ago,  from  —  from  —  where  did  he  come 
from,  Stella?" 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         59 

"  You  are  the  recording  angel  of  the  Camp,  dear," 
smiled  Miss  Montgomery.  "  I'm  surprised  you  don't 
know.  But  I  can't  help  you,  I  fear.  Mr.  Stone  never 
talks  about  himself,  which  is  one  reason,  I  suppose, 
why  we  all  talk  so  much  about  him.  Vaguely  speak 
ing,  I  think  he  is  an  Easterner." 

"  Well,"  Mrs.  St.  John  rattled  on,  undaunted,  "  any 
way,  he  came  out  here !  He  is  quite  important  in  the 
local  business  life,  being  the  manager  of  —  of  —  what 
is  Thorny  the  manager  of,  Stella?  " 

"  Of  his  own  affairs,  I  should  say,"  drolly  Miss 
Montgomery  helped  her  out. 

"  What  does  he  look  like?"  ventured  Eleanor,  her 
eyes  twinkling,  for  she  had  asked  the  question  more  to 
keep  the  absorbing  topic  alive,  than  for  informa 
tion. 

"  Just  like  his  photographs,"  answered  Miss  Mont 
gomery,  not  offensively  at  all,  her  sarcasm  not  being 
personal  in  its  tone.  "  There  is  a  speaking  likeness  of 
Crathorne  Stone  in  Hamilton's  show-case,  on  the 
Broadway  side  —  a  large  brown  print,  in  a  plain 
frame.  You  know  Hamilton's,  Mrs.  Evanston? 
It's  that  funny  looking  old  cabin  a  couple  of  blocks  off 
Main  Street.  Hamilton  does  excellent  work,  and  we 
nagged  Mr.  Stone  into  giving  him  a  sitting.  He  would 
be  furious  if  he  knew  his  picture  had  been  in  the  show 
case  a  week!  " 

The  hostess  reflected  —  it  was  very  well  done,  too. 
Then  a  wee  light  broke  through  her  seriousness. 
"  Oh  —  oh  yes !  "  she  remembered.  "  I  think  I  must 
know  Hamilton's.  A  funny  little  log  house  with  one 
side  in  studio  windows?  And  I  think  I  recall  the  pic- 


60         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

ture  you  mention,  too.  A  chap  with  thick,  light  hair 
and  blue  eyes?  " 

"  The  eyes  are  rather  more  grey  than  blue,"  cor 
rected  the  belle  of  many  seasons,  without  the  depth  of 
interest  showing  in  her  manner  that  might  have  been 
deducted  from  her  knowledge.  In  fact,  Stella  was 
gazing  out  at  the  mountains,  lovely  at  this  hour  with 
the  lights  of  a  departing  day  lying  on  them. 

But  Eleanor  was  not  willing  to  drop  the  subject 
without  just  one  more  little  probe.  "  I  thought  the 
mouth  in  that  likeness  rather  indicative  of  stubborn 
ness,"  she  indifferently  remarked. 

"  Which  characteristic  of  the  gentleman  does  not 
confine  itself  to  the  photograph  of  his  mouth,"  dryly 
commented  Miss  Montgomery. 

"Never  mind!"  insisted  Mrs.  St.  John,  "  Thorny 
Stone  is  much  the  best  looking  man  I  know  —  he  is 
quite  as  striking  as  that  picture  on  the  piano.  And  he 
really  does  look  a  lot  like  it,  too,  although,  of  course 
he  is  clean  shaven.  Wouldn't  he  be  absurd  with  a 
Van  Dyke,  Stella?  "  Then  she  turned  the  tide  of  the 
talk  to  more  general  things,  gaily  asking  her  hostess 
how  she  liked  the  Camp. 

This  commonplace  attack  took  all  the  words  out 
of  the  stranger  for  a  second,  which  gave  Mrs.  St.  John 
the  opportunity  to  hurry  right  along  and  answer  her 
own  inquiry  by  a  few  assorted  remarks.  The  Camp 
was  certainly  unique,  she  told  her  hostess,  but  the  peo 
ple  were  noted  for  their  friendliness.  The  place  was 
not  interesting  any  more,  to  be  sure  —  it  was  just  like 
any  other  overgrown  town  now;  but  years  ago,  when 
she  herself  was  a  little  girl,  things  were  very  lively. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         61 

The  tales  of  the  early  days  would  make  a  novel  —  in 
fact  various  newspaper  men,  and  so  on,  had  tried  to 
use  the  Camp  as  a  setting,  but  they  never  lived  here 
long  enough  to  get  things  straight  —  or  else  they  were 
afraid  of  libel  suits,  and  so  the  outside  world  never  did 
know  what  the  Camp  was  like,  after  all.  She  cited 
the  dramatic  literary  possibilities  of  the  lives  of  Carl 
Heilberg  and  Judge  Eltin  Billings.  Billings,  she 
cheerily  said,  was  a  very  distinguished  man  whose  in 
fluence  on  the  community  was  thrilling.  He  was  dis 
tinguished,  among  other  things,  for  taking  a  hundred- 
thousand-dollar  bribe  from  the  Heilberg  faction  —  or 
for  not  taking  it  —  she  never  could  remember  which 
it  was !  And  she  was  sure  any  in-comer  would  like  the 
Campx  in  time. 

Miss  Montgomery  then  reminded  her  friend  that 
they  had  already  staid  an  unconscionable  length  of 
time.  And  the  ladies  took  their  departure,  Me. 
Queene's  driver  waking  himself  up  with  a  jerk,  and 
the  horses  shaking  themselves  together.  All  of  them 
started  down  the  hill,  better  amused  for  having  been 
up  it. 

When  the  sound  of  the  wheels  had  died  away, 
Eleanor  took  the  portrait  from  the  piano  walked  with 
it  to  the  windows,  where  it  shared  the  beautiful  lights 
that  were  on  the  mountains.  "  The  resemblance  is  un 
questionably  strong,"  she  mused.  "  But  I  doubt  if 
one  not  very  much  interested  in  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone, 
would  remark  it.  Strange  place,  this.  Strange  place, 
the  world  —  and  stranger  yet  the  intricacies  of  life. 
But  strangest  of  all,  seem  the  facts  that  this  hill  stands 
in  this  Camp;  this  house  stands  on  this  hill;  I  stand  in 
this  house;  and  my  heart  stands  in  me!  " 


CHAPTER  VII 

TT  was  after  dinner  —  a  dinner  eaten  alone.  Upon 
•••  Eleanor  was  an  evening  —  an  evening  to  be  spent 
alone.  And  this  woman,  like  most  other  women, 
found  it  harder  to  be  alone  on  this  beautiful  evening, 
than  it  would  have  been  had  the  weather  been  dis 
agreeable.  And  it  was  a  wonderful  night,  full  of 
soft  light  from  the  moon,  with  one  of  the  very  last  of 
summer's  caresses  in  the  air.  It  was  October,  to  be 
sure,  but,  for  a  change,  October  was  not  eager  to  ac 
knowledge  itself;  it  wanted  to  play-act  that  it  was 
young  September.  The  lady  paced  up  and  down  her 
great  living  room,  unreconciled,  too.  She  wanted  to 
be  nineteen,  for  one  thing,  but  more  than  this,  she 
wanted  to  be  amused.  Certainly,  she  did  not  want  to 
be  alone. 

"I  suppose  I  had  best  get  used  to  it!"  she  said 
aloud  to  herself,  picking  up  a  magazine.  But  she  had 
already  looked  at  the  pictures;  and  who  would  wish  to 
sit  alone  on  an  exquisite  night  reading  articles  on  the 
slowly  improving  condition  of  tubercular  tendencies  in 
the  slums  of  New  York,  or  nice  little  love  stories  by 
promising  young  space  writers? 

"  Heavens !  "  Eleanor  murmured,  throwing  the 
magazine  onto  the  divan;  "  heavens,  heavens  — 
heavens !  "  And  she  rushed  to  the  door  leading  to  the 
porch,  and  stepped  out  into  the  night. 

The  outlines  of  all  the  mine  buildings,  the  stacks,  the 
dumps,  and  the  cabins  were  well  defined;  and  farther 

62 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         63 

on  down  in  the  town  were  the  silhouettes  of  the  better 
houses.  The  business  blocks  and  the  church  steeples 
stood  out  in  the  picture.  A  huge,  gaunt  butte  quite  by 
itself  on  the  west  edge  of  the  Camp,  looked  more  in 
teresting  than  the  lady  had  supposed  it  ever  could. 
The  night  added  romance  to  its  usual  cheerlessness, 
and  made  it  look  like  a  Japanese  print.  Eleanor  de 
cided  as  she  looked  at  it  now  that  she  liked  it  better 
for  being  barren  of  all  save  rocks,  than  she  would  if  it 
were  decorated  by  trees.  But  the  Lone  Cone,  as  they 
called  this  formation,  was  a  poor  tonic  for  the  blues 
any  time,  night  or  day,  and  for  a  long  time  she  gazed 
at  the  great,  still  mass  against  the  lighter  sky,  and  then 
she  said  aloud,  and  very  sweetly,  "  Poor  old  Cone, 
can't  you  find  a  soul  to  play  with,  either?" 

The  lady  had  spoken  quietly,  but  perfectly  distinctly, 
as  though  she  really  expected  the  grim  old  mountain 
to  answer  her,  but  the  Lone  Cone  had  made  it  a 
habit  for  many  years,  not  to  reply  to  questions  —  either 
those  of  ladies,  or  those  of  prospectors  who  gruffly 
demanded  to  be  told  if  there  were  copper  ore  in  its 
depths.  However,  somebody  answered  her,  in  a  very 
nice  voice,  not  five  feet  away  from  her  —  somebody 
who  had  been  standing  on  the  ground  and  leaning  for 
ward  on  the  porch  railing,  studying  her,  unbeknown 
to  anyone  but  himself. 

"  Do  you  want  somebody  to  play  with?  "  the  voice 
asked,  gently  enough,  but  the  lady  was  so  startled  that 
she  recoiled  from  the  railing  and  fell  into  the  cement 
walls  of  the  house,  along  which  she  made  her  way  to 
the  door.  A  queer  little  sound  escaped  her,  half 
frightened,  half  pleading. 


64         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  Don't  be  alarmed!  "  the  voice  relieved  her.  "  I 
am  neither  a  highwayman  nor  a  kidnaper." 

"  What  are  you,  then?  "  she  faltered. 

"  Just  a  man,"  he  answered,  simply.  "  Some  peo 
ple,  however,  don't  use  this  term  in  speaking  of  me  — 
they  pull  out  some  disagreeable  word  from  their  vo 
cabularies  specially  for  me  — '  renegade  '  is  about  the 
nicest  of  the  lot.  I  used  to  be  a  gentleman." 

"  You  used  to  be  a  gentleman?  "  Eleanor  asked,  not 
feeling  so  much  at  a  disadvantage  as  she  had.  "  And 
what  are  you  now?  " 

"  I'm  a  drunk  now  —  most  of  the  time,"  he  de 
scribed  himself. 

"  But  you  are  safe,  aren't  you?"  she  questioned, 
childishly. 

"  Safe  as  the  bank  of  England,"  he  assured  her. 
"  I  shall  not  steal  your  silver  —  I  shall  not  even  step 
on  your  porch." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  come  onto  my  porch,  if  you 
like,"  she  said  politely,  regaining  her  self-possession 
as  she  realised  the  man  meant  no  harm. 

"  Don't  be  decent  to  me !  "  he  commanded.  "  I'm 
not  used  to  it,  and  it  is  the  one  thing  that  makes  me 
unsafe  —  being  treated  as  I  used  to  be." 

This  astonishing  statement  touched  the  maternal  in 
stincts  of  the  lady.  "  Don't  say  that!  "  she  begged, 
quite  unafraid  by  this  time.  "  You  are  yourself  now, 
aren't  you?  " 

He  laughed  unpleasantly.  "  No  —  not  now,"  he 
owned. 

"  And  to-morrow?  "  she  asked.  "  Will  to-morrow 
be  just  the  same?  " 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         65 

"  To-morrow  is  never  anything  more  than  a  new 
yesterday/'  he  answered. 

"Perhaps  not?"  she  hoped.  "And  I  wonder  if 
you  had  not  best  go  home  now?  "  she  asked,  not  at  all 
unkindly. 

"  I  am  going  pretty  soon,"  he  promised.  And  the 
light  from  the  open  door  fell  upon  him,  showing  his 
face  to  be  attractive  in  spite  of  its  flush  and  his  mussy 
hair.  He  seemed  young,  and  was  very  well  dressed. 

As  he  still  lingered,  the  lady  asked  him  why  he  had 
come  up  the  hill  at  all. 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  get  a  look  at  you,"  he  frankly 
admitted.  "  In  the  second  place,  the  crowd  of  disor 
derlies  I  was  with,  bet  me  five  dollars  I  couldn't  make 
the  hill  with  my  present  load  —  and  I  need  the  five. 
You  see?" 

"  You  wanted  to  see  me?"  Eleanor  asked,  in  that 
little  way  of  hers  that  was  second  nature  to  her,  and  a 
sure  trap  for  everybody  else.  "  Why?  " 

"  Well,  now  you've  got  me !  "  he  acknowledged, 
humorously.  "  Maybe  because  you  are  new  here; 
maybe  because  I  heard  you  were  registered  from  my 
own  home  town." 

"New  York?" 

"New  York  — yes." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Stranger,  having  seen  me,  and  having 
made  your  five  dollars,  isn't  it  time  you  went  back  to 
your  friends?  "  she  suggested  again,  for  it  was  enough 
to  make  any  woman  nervous,  having  this  person  here. 
Martha  was  already  asleep,  probably,  and  the  cabins 
below  were  a  little  far  for  her  to  make  herself  heard 
if  she  needed  assistance. 


66         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  somebody  to  break  the  still 
ness?"  he  reminded  her.  But  in  a  flash  he  corrected 
himself.  "  Perhaps  you  meant  somebody  of  your  own 
kind?  I  used  to  be  your  sort,  myself,  and  to  prove  it 
to  you,  here  is  my  gun.  There !  I'll  toss  it  onto  that 
wicker  bench.  Now  you  can  plug  me  if  I  step  on  your 
porch." 

"  I  told  you  you  were  welcome  to  come  on  my  porch, 
if  you  wish,"  she  said,  remembering  that  there  is  a 
popular  theory  to  the  effect  that  it  is  sometimes  advis 
able  to  humour  insane  and  intoxicated  creatures.  She 
made  no  motion  to  touch  the  revolver,  but  on  the  con 
trary  came  a  shade  nearer  her  uninvited  guest,  saying, 
sincerely,  "  I  think  you  could  be  a  gentleman  again,  if 
you  would  make  the  stand  for  it." 

"  Several  lovely  women  have  had  the  same  idea,"  he 
commented,  cynically. 

"  And  have  they  all  been  disappointed?  "  she  asked. 

"  Every  one  of  them  —  yes." 

"Surely  you  are  not  hopeless?"  she  demanded, 
eagerly.  "  Why  nobody  in  the  whole  world  is  hope 
less!" 

"  Let  me  tell  you  something,  kind  Reformer,"  he 
began,  in  such  a  nice  voice  and  with  such  dignity  of 
manner  that  his  slight  familiarity  passed  unreprimanded 
—  as  impertinences  generally  do  if  their  exploiters  are 
clever  enough.  "  Making  changes  in  men  is  a  hard 
job  anywhere,  but  an  utter  impossibility  in  a  mining 
camp.  Nobody  can  blow  in  here  and  make  us  over,  no 
matter  how  right  she  is,  or  how  beautiful  she  is.  You 
will  probably  remember  I  told  you  so,  when  the  time 
comes  for  you  to  count  up  your  failures.  I'm  off  now, 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         67 

and  I'm  sorry  to  have  startled  you.  I  did  not  intend 
to  speak  to  you,  but  I  couldn't  help  it  —  any  more  than 
a  true  woman  could  help  offering  me  good  advice." 

"  Don't  forget  your  pistol,"  she  said. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  won't  take  it.  You  ought  to 
have  one  up  here,  and  you  will  be  less  apt  to  hurt 
somebody  with  it,  than  I  shall.  If  your  kind  self 
wants  to  do  something  for  me,  keep  that  gun  from  me. 
And  when  I  get  down  this  terror  of  a  hill  and  back 
with  the  disorderlies,  I'll  have  a  night-cap  to  your 
never  having  to  use  it  on  me.  Good  night !  " 

And  as  he  had  appeared  from  nowhere,  he  sud 
denly  disappeared  into  nothingness. 

Eleanor  had  several  things  to  consider  —  first,  was 
it  best  for  her  to  rush  inside  and  bolt  the  door?  And 
was  this  extraordinary  prowler  truly  what  he  repre 
sented  himself  to  be  —  a  harmless  drunkard?  In 
turning  to  go  in,  she  noticed  the  light  from  one  of 
the  windows  had  caught  the  barrel  of  the  gun.  She 
picked  up  the  weapon  and  looked  at  it  gingerly.  She 
had  never  before  handled  one  that  she  could  recall. 
"  How  exasperating!  "  she  murmured,  and  went  in. 

A  worse  restlessness  than  had  been  hers  earlier  in 
the  evening,  was  annoying  the  lady  now.  She  was 
very  nervous  and  jumped  at  each  little  sound,  being 
only  half  convinced  that  she  had  3een  the  last  of  her 
unpleasant  caller  for  the  night.  She  inspected  all  the 
locks,  but  it  was  more  than  easy  to  enter  the  bungalow 
from  the  windows  in  the  bed  rooms,  and  surely  one 
had  to  have  the  fresh  air.  She  tried  to  read,  but  it 
was  too  late  to  turn  back  to  her  life-long  resolution  to 
take  up  the  heavier  classics.  Some  other  time!  The 


68         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

magazines  —  no !  What  she  needed  was  a  human 
voice  to  steady  her.  She  seemed  to  be  facing  making 
a  choice  —  she  must  wake  Martha,  call  91,  force  an 
interest  in  the  sadly  neglected  works  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  delve  into  the  tubercular  tendencies  of  the  slums 
—  or  scream.  And  for  the  life  of  her,  she  did  not 
know  which  trial  to  turn  to.  If  she  did  wake  Martha, 
she  would  have  to  offer  a  reason,  and  if  Martha  ever 
got  wind  of  the  fact  that  a  drunken  person  who  once 
was  a  gentleman  was  snooping  around  the  bungalow 
oj  nights,  she  would  give  out  one  wild  yell  and  run  down 
the  hill  in  bare  feet  and  flowing  white  gown,  to  be  shot 
down  for  a  runaway  ghost  by  the  miners  at  the  bottom, 
probably.  A  happy  situation,  verily! 

The  logs  in  the  fireplace  snapped,  and  the  lady 
sprang  to  her  feet;  but  being  ashamed  of  her  lack  of 
poise,  she  sat  at  the  piano.  The  tones  she  drew  forth 
could  hardly  be  classed  as  music,  they  seemed  so 
apologetic  and  indefinite.  She  could  not  tolerate 
them,  herself,  so  she  gravely  considered  her  natural 
impulse  to  call  up  some  voice  on  the  telephone.  Who 
should  it  be?  Mrs.  St.  John?  No,  she  argued,  her 
acquaintance  with  her  was  too  brief  to  admit  of  such 
informality.  Young  Colby?  No  —  he  was  already 
sure  enough  of  his  winning  ways,  and  anyway  —  it 
would  not  do.  Miss  Montgomery?  Um-m  — 
hardly.  Dr.  Marsden?  She  hated  to  do  it,  but  she 
felt  the  sound  of  a  voice  was  necessary  to  help  her 
compose  herself,  so  she  registered  7155. 

"  No,  mam,"  drowsily  replied  the  office  boy.  "  He 
was  called  out  and  hasn't  come  in  yet.  No,  mam. 
What  name,  please?" 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         69 

"  There  is  no  message,  thank  you,"  she  told  him. 

It  had  helped  a  little  to  speak  an  instant  with  some 
body's  office  boy,  even,  but  the  lady  was  far  from 
quieted  in  her  mind. 

What  should  she  read?  Horrors!  She  could  not 
read.  What  should  she  think  about?  Heavens! 
What  was  there  to  think  about  —  her  black  clothes? 
Drunken  prowlers?  Ground  floor  sleeping  rooms 
whose  windows  it  was  the  simplest  thing  on  earth  to 
crawl  in  through?  Cheerful,  to  say  the  least!  The 
one  photograph?  What  good  could  come  of  that? 
The  photograph  in  Hamilton's  show-case?  What  end 
had  that,  pray  tell?  The  people  at  home?  Oh  no! 
She  was  trying  to  live  apart  from  them  for  a  little 
while  —  utterly  apart.  What  then  —  Miss  Stella 
Montgomery  ?  Well  —  yes. 

This  was  not  an  uninteresting  theme.  As  a  memory 
test,  Eleanor  tried  to  bring  the  girl's  face  clearly  be 
fore  her,  by  closing  her  eyes  and  thinking  hard.  Miss 
Montgomery  was  very  good  looking,  it  was  useless  to 
deny  this.  Her  eyes  were  china-blue  and  not  large, 
but  there  was  something  in  the  sweep  of  the  thick  blond 
eye-lashes  that  made  one  wonder.  Miss  Montgomery 
was  apparently  fond  of  extreme  styles  in  dress,  but  she 
had  personality  enough  to  carry  off  her  originality. 
She  was  daring,  but  she  passed  unquestioned  by  her 
friends.  If  all  the  other  women  at  a  party  took  their 
hats  off,  Stella  kept  hers  on  —  Eleanor  felt  sure  of 
this,  and  she  pondered  on  the  combative  nature  behind 
such  traits.  In  her  indifference  of  manner  was  hidden 
strong  feeling,  this  was  easy  to  discover.  But  for 
what  or  for  whom  was  the  strong  feeling  —  Mr. 


70         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Crathorne  Stone?  How  much  did  Miss  Montgomery 
care  for  Mr.  Stone,  or  did  she,  care?  And  why, 
Eleanor  demanded  of  herself,  should  she  who  had  no 
right  to  have  any  opinions  on  the  subject  at  all,  why 
should  she  care?  Miss  Montgomery's  feelings  were 
certainly  her  own  affair.  And  Mr.  Stone  was  at 
liberty  to  inspire  whatever  sentiment  he  would,  in 
whomever  he  could,  wasn't  he?  But  one  could  hardly 
help  taking  a  tiny  bit  of  interest,  could  she,  when  she 
was  so  very  much  out  of  nearer  things  to  absorb  her 
attention  ? 

The  nervous,  lonely  woman  sat  long  enough  in  one 
posture  to  make  her  feel  cramped,  then  she  took  an 
other  chair,  and,  as  was  her  custom  sometimes,  she 
spoke  to  herself,  aloud.  "  Oh  well !  "  she  sighed,  with 
a  shrug,  "  what  is  it  all  to  me?  " 

Her  mood  was  rudely  broken  into  by  an  urgent  ring 
at  her  desk,  which,  being  quite  unexpected,  caused  her 
to  shiver.  But  she  automatically  took  off  the  receiver, 
and  brushed  back  a  stray  lock  of  hair  with  the  unen 
gaged  hand. 

Instead  of  a  chance  to  acknowledge  the  call,  there 
came  to  her  the  sound  of  a  man's  voice,  singing,  It 
seemed  to  be  somewhere  in  the  room  with  the  tele 
phone,  but  not  near  the  transmitter,  for  the  piano  ac 
companiment  sounded  metallic  and  remote.  But  the 
man's  voice  reached  her  in  all  its  beautiful  clearness 
and  its  intensity,  carrying  the  words,  "  O  memories 
that  bless  and  burn  —  O  barren  gain  and  bitter  loss !  " 
And  the  fine  voice  went  on  with  feeling  that  was  con 
vincing  even  so  far  as  the  top  of  Copper  Hill,  "  I  kiss 
each  bead,  and  strive  at  last  to  learn  to  — " 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         71 

Eleanor  experienced  a  shock  just  here,  for  into  the 
even,  deep  tones  of  the  song,  came  the  impatient  inter 
ruption  of  Mr.  Barton  Colby,  saying  peevishly,  "  Cut 
it  out,  Thorny  —  cut  it  out !  Didn't  I  tell  you  I 
wanted  to  speak  with  a  lady?  How  can  I  hear  her  if 
she  answers?  If  you  must  sing,  give  us  something 
cheerful  like  *  She  Borrowed  My  Only  Husband,'  and 
make  it  soft  and  tender,  will  you?  " 

A  heavy  chord  next  travelled  to  the  top  of  Copper 
Hill,  which  eloquently  announced  that  Mr.  Crathorne 
Stone  was  bored,  and  that  his  song  ended  here,  in  the 
middle  of  a  phrase,  for  this  time.  Then  in  the  quiet 
that  followed,  Eleanor  heard  —  in  Mr.  Colby's  nicest 
drawing  room  inflection  —  "Hello?  Is  Mrs.  Evans- 
ton  in?  " 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Colby,"  she  responded. 

"  Discovered !  "  he  confessed.  "  Mrs.  Evanston,  I 
called  you  up  on  a  little  errand  for  Mrs.  St.  John,  but 
before  explaining  myself,  may  I  ask  how  the  world  is 
treating  you  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  indeed,  thank  you,"  she  replied,  from 
habit,  more  than  from  facts. 

"  You  are  not  scared  to  death  up  on  that  hill  all  by 
yourself,  are  you?  "  he  went  on,  pleasantly. 

"  Oh,  not  at  all !  "  she  cheerfully  misinformed  him. 
"  I  feel  as  brave  and  unmolested  as  can  be  —  especially 
now  that  I  have  a  pistol." 

"A  gun?  You?  You  don't  say!  Can  you  shoot 
it?  "  He  seemed  most  amused  by  the  idea. 

"  Well,  I  never  have  tried,  but  no  doubt  I  could  if 
I  had  to,"  she  told  him. 

"  Me  for  a  suit  of  tin  armour,  then,  when  I  come  up 


72         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

for  the  lost,  strayed  or  stolen  property  of  Miss  Stella 
Montgomery !  By  the  way,  did  you  find  her  everlast 
ing  silver  purse  —  that  one  that  resembles  a  young 
suit-case  on  a  chain?  She  has  lost  it  again,  and  the 
papers  are  so  sick  of  printing  her  reward  notices  that 
she  hasn't  the  heart  to  propose  it  to  them  any  more. 
Mrs.  St.  John  may  have  asked  you  already  if  they  left 
it  at  your  house.  No?  Well,  I  am  glad  to  be  first. 
Have  you  seen  it?  " 

"  I  remember  noticing  it  when  Miss  Montgomery 
arrived,  Mr.  Colby,"  she  said.  "  But  I  am  sure  it  is 
not  in  the  house  —  although  she  might  have  dropped  it 
outside,  I  suppose.  I  will  have  a  thorough  look  for 
it  in  the  morning." 

"  Thank  you  —  she  would  appreciate  it,  if  you  will 
be  so  good.  She  did  not  ask  me  to  call  upon  you  for 
aid,  incidentally;  but  she  generally  appeals  to  me 
sooner  or  later,  so  I  anticipated  her  this  time.  Per 
sonally,  I  should  be  delighted  to  have  her  lose  that 
thing  for  good;  yet  one  thing  about  it  interests  me. 
There  is  a  photograph  of  Thorny  Stone  in  it  that  really 
belongs  to  me  —  she  borrowed  my  only  picture  and 
forgot  to  give  it  back,  as  the  song  goes !  By  the  way, 
I  should  like  to  have  you  meet  Mr.  Stone  —  he  is  in 
the  room  now.  I  am  trying  to  get  him  away  from  the 
piano." 

"Why  get  him  away?"  the  lady  asked,  vaguely 
hoping  to  avoid  this  proposed  introduction.  "  I  en 
joyed  a  few  notes  of  his  song  before  you  spoke  to  me." 

"  So  ?  Well,  that  explains  why  you  were  so  long 
in  answering!  I  see  it  all  —  he  has  beat  me  out  again. 
May  I  present  him,  Mrs.  Evanston  ?  " 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         73 

"That  will  be  very  nice,  Mr.  Colby.  Do  —  the 
first  time  we  three  meet  somewhere." 

"  Oh,  but  I  mean  now  —  on  the  wire.'1 

"Ah  —  I  see!"  she  breathed,  unconsciously  crush 
ing  a  handful  of  her  frock,  and  looking  about  for 
some  place  to  hide  —  as  though  it  were  possible  to  run 
away  from  someone  not  present. 

There  was  a  pause  which  filled  the  lady  with  various 
emotions.  If  Mr.  Stone  were  right  there  in  the  room 
with  Mr.  Colby,  why  was  he  so  long  coming?  Where 
was  he  —  his  rooms  or  Colby's  —  and  what  differ 
ence  did  it  make?  Why,  if  Mr.  Stone  wished  to  be 
introduced  was  he  speaking  —  arguing,  perhaps  —  in 
so  low  a  tone  that  she  could  not  make  out  what  he 
was  saying?  Was  Colby's  hand  over  the  mouth-piece 
to  spare  her  any  possible  embarrassment  caused  by  his 
friend's  reluctance?  Why  should  this  man  not  wish 
to  chat  with  her?  What  could  he  know  of  someone 
he  had  not  seen  during  her  short  stay  in  the  Camp  — 
what  could  he  possibly  know  of  '  Mrs.  Evanston  '  that 
made  him  inclined  not  to  meet  her?  What  was  keep 
ing  him  —  and  should  she  risk  hurting  Mr.  Colby  by 
ringing  off?  What  good  would  that  do  —  he  would 
only  call  her  up  again,  which  might  be  more  awkward, 
even,  for  both  of  them. 

These  things  and  dozens  of  others  flashed  through 
her  head,  that  little  moment  that  she  held  a  silent  wire. 
But  eventually  she  heard,  "  Mrs.  Evanston?  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Colby?"  she  replied. 

"  It  was  nice  of  you  to  hold  the  line,  while  Mr. 
Stone  dashed  for  my  bed  room  to  brush  up  his  hair 
and  set  his  scarf-pin  straight  before  being  introduced 


74         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

to  a  lady.  But  he  is  back  now,  and  properly  impatient 
to  know  you.  May  I  present  Mr.  Stone,  Mrs.  Evans- 
ton?" 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Stone?"  the  lady  acknowl 
edged  him,  perfunctorily;  affecting,  as  though  she 
meant  to  disguise  herself,  a  slight  English  accent,  and 
she  unconsciously  threw  her  voice  higher  than  usual, 
so  really  it  did  not  sound  like  Eleanor  speaking,  at 
all. 

"  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Evanston,"  Mr.  Stone 
replied,  civilly  but  with  no  warmth  in  his  tone.  "  I 
hear  you  are  a  stranger  here,  but  I  trust  you  will  soon 
feel  at  home  among  us." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  faltered,  with  a  rising  inflection 
which  gave  her  commonplace  words  the  same  casual 
tone  as  his  own.  "  I  had  the  pleasure  of  overhearing 
a  few  bars  of  your  song,"  she  continued,  feeling  that 
awkward  as  this  exchange  of  conventionalities  was 
proving  itself  to  be,  some  effort  must  be  made  to  keep 
it  from  being  farcical  in  its  flatness. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  stiffly.  "  Mr.  Colby  promises 
me  a  nearer  meeting  with  you  in  the  future,  when  I 
shall  hope  to  thank  you  again  for  your  kindness  in 
listening  to  me.  Good-night." 

"  Good-night !"  she  managed  to  articulate  faintly, 
although  Mr.  Stone  got  the  words,  probably.  She 
heard  the  click  of  his  receiver  as  it  went  into  place. 
She  jumped  to  her  feet  and  pressed  her  finger-tips  into 
her  cheeks.  This  individual  gesture  always  implied  a 
great  deal  with  Eleanor. 

"  Colossal !  "      she      breathed  — "  colossal !     Who 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         75 

ever  heard  of  a  man's  presuming  to  dismiss  the  woman 
speaking  with  him  ?  " 

Anger  filled  her  whole  being.  She  was  so  deeply 
piqued  that  it  sent  a  pink  flush  all  over  her  face  —  a 
most  unusual  thing,  for  Eleanor  was  always  without 
colour,  except  in  her  mouth  which  was  so  very  red,  or 
which  against  her  general  whiteness  seemed  so  very  red, 
that  she  had  grown  used  to  being  accused  of  reddening 
it  herself.  This  flush  was  not  pretty  especially  —  it 
was  simply  interesting,  like  the  warnings  of  a  storm. 
It  was  the  visible  sign  of  a  wave  of  indignation  that 
was  dashing  over  her,  leaving  her  unreasonable  and 
primitive. 

She  whirled  upon  the  burning  logs  in  the  fireplace 
as  if  they  understood  her  perfectly,  and  she  spoke 
aloud  and  vigorously.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such 
impertinence?  "  she  demanded.  "And  the  wretched 
situation  was  in  no  way  my  fault,  was  it?  Did  I  wish 
to  meet  this  man,  I  ask  you?  Never!  " 

She  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  in  temper.  Once 
again  she  stopped  and  appealed  to  the  fire.  "  This  is 
a  fine  place  we've  got  ourselves  into,  isn't  it?  "  she 
asked.  "Quite  diverting!  Drunken  men  prowl 
around  and  volunteer  odd  bits  of  philosophy,  and  sober 
men  administer  odd  doses  of  discipline!  They  don't 
bother  to  spell  one's  name  on  the  hotel  register  the  way 
it  is  usually  written  —  the  Camp  way  is  good  enough 
for  the  Camp,  and  one  does  not  have  to  remain  if  she 
thinks  she  can  be  happier  elsewhere !  They  have  a  lit 
tle  way  of  assuming  that  one  is  inclined  to  be  a  shade 
adventurous,  until  she  proves  to  them  she  isn't.  And 


76         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Mr.  Crathorne  Stone's  photograph  is  in  Miss  Stella 
Montgomery's  silver  '  suit-case  '  as  that  talkative  boy 
calls  it  —  the  finishing  touch,  indeed!  " 

The  tired,  unstrung  woman  finally  quieted  herself. 
She  dropped  onto  the  couch.  "How  interesting!'*' 
she  reflected.  "  A  mining  camp  with  all  the  modern 
improvements !  I  don't  know  which  of  the  two  men  I 
have  met  this  evening,  has  upset  me  so  —  the  one  with 
the  gun  and  the  fine  phraseology,  or  the  one  with  the 
cold  speaking  voice  and  the  warm  singing  voice  in  the 
room  with  somebody's  telephone.  '  O  memories  that 
bless  and  burn.'  Special  accent  might  well  be  thrown 
on  the  word,  burn!" 

And  the  plucky  girlish  Eleanor  tried  to  laugh,  but  it 
was  a  sorry  try  —  it  did  not  sound  like  laughter  at  all. 
It  had  been  so  long  since  she  had  taken  her  characteris 
tically  vehement  interest  in  things,  that  this  evening  had 
tired  her.  As  one  grown  older,  she  went  to  bed,  but 
not  to  sleep,  for  over  and  over  to  herself,  she  kept  say 
ing,  "  The  Camp  hermit  that  nobody  ever  gets  any 
where  with,  this  Crathorne  Stone,  is  he?  Amusing  — 
positively  amusing!  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHEN  the  occupant  of  the  Copper  Hill  bungalow 
awoke  it  was  Saturday,  she  realised,  and  rather 
late.  Her  first  thought  was  a  dull  one  —  to-morrow 
would  be  Sunday,  and  there  is  nothing  worse  than  Sun 
day,  when  there  is  no  one  but  oneself  to  consider. 
The  prospect  of  finding  Miss  Stella  Montgomery's 
silver  card-case,  lent  a  mild  zest  to  life  for  the  moment, 
but  the  day  promised  little  more.  When  Eleanor  ap 
preciated  that  her  interest  did  not  lie  in  the  size  of  this 
purse,  nor  in  the  number  of  cards  therein,  but  rather 
in  a  certain  photograph  supposed  to  be  among  the  con 
tents,  she  shrugged  an  irritated  little  shrug. 

But  surely  if  this  card-case  were  in  the  house,  it 
would  have  been  discovered  in  two  days. 

After  her  coffee,  the  lady  made  her  customary  trip 
to  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  the  bungalow  letter  box 
stood  on  a  post  in  solitary  prominence.  The  postman 
had  had  it  understood  with  Mr.  Burns  when  the  house 
was  first  built  that  he  never  would  plod  up  that  hill  with 
anything  less  urgent  than  a  special  delivery  letter  on 
black-edged  paper.  And  so  it  was  that  twice  a  day 
somebody  went  down  the  hill  for  the  mail. 

To-day,  as  on  all  other  days  since  she  had  been  in 
the  Camp,  Eleanor  found  that  the  box  was  empty. 
There  was  no  one  to  write  to  her,  really,  and  she  had 
left  instructions  that  the  "  at  home  "  cards  and  things 
should  not  be  forwarded  —  part  of  the  reason  for  her 
being  here  was  to  get  away  from  receiving  some 

77 


78         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

friend's  card  to  a  tea,  and  returning  one  of  her  own. 
But  she  hoped  with  the  hunger  of  an  exile,  that  some 
body  would  find  her  out  and  send  just  a  line  to  say 
they  were  all  missing  her  during  these  years.  The 
word  caught  her  attention.  "Years?"  she  repeated 
aloud,  with  a  sad  little  smile.  "  How  funny !  It  has 
been  about  two  weeks!  " 

Dr.  LeRoy  knew  where  to  reach  her,  but  he  prob 
ably  was  waiting  for  her  to  write  him  first. 

She  looked  about  for  the  missing  purse,  knowing  it 
was  a  foolish  waste  of  time,  for  Miss  Montgomery 
had  travelled  the  road  in  a  closed  carriage.  But  at 
the  entrance  to  the  bungalow  some  workmen  had  loos 
ened  up  some  earth  recently  while  getting  at  a  water 
pipe,  and  the  lady  stopped  here.  Close  to  the  steps 
and  partly  covered  with  dirt,  lay  the  card-case,  just 
where  Miss  Montgomery  must  have  dropped  it  when 
gathering  up  her  long  skirts,  preparatory  to  getting  into 
the  carriage. 

Eleanor  reached  down  for  it,  eagerly,  and  put  her 
thumb  on  the  clasp.  But  some  wee,  small  voice  within 
her  said,  "  If  it  amuses  you  to  see  the  likeness  of  the 
best-looking  young  man  in  the  Camp,  you  will  find  a 
brown  print  of  the  eyes  that  won't  look  at  you  and  the 
mouth  that  won't  say  what  you  want  it  to,  in  a  public 
show-case  on  Broadway!  "  And  she  quietly  laid  the 
purse  on  the  table  in  the  big  room,  unopened. 

"  And,"  she  went  on  to  herself,  with  fine  sarcasm, 
"  if  you  feel  you  really  can't  wait  comfortably  until 
you  get  down  town,  dear  Eleanor,  go  over  to  the  piano 
and  study  the  photograph  that  his  friends  here  say  is 
the  image  of  him !  " 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         79 

Truly  her  humour  had  bitterness  in  it,  and  she  yielded 
to  her  impulse,  and  took  the  dark  heavy  frame  in  her 
hands,  as  tears  of  indignation  forced  themselves  be 
tween  her  and  clear  sight.  "  How  well  I  know  the 
type !  "  she  sighed.  "  And  how  smart  it  would  be  of 
us  to  let  one  good  lesson  on  any  one  subject  be 
enough!  " 

She  stood  a  long  while,  and  then  her  thoughts  took 
their  form  in  words  once  more.  "  Men  are  so  much 
stronger  than  we,"  she  murmured  to  herself.  "  When 
their  lives  become  complicated  they  don't  run  off  by 
themselves  and  think,  as  women  do  —  they  get  a  game 
of  billiards  with  somebody  and  then  tell  themselves 
1  to  cut  it  out.'  Women  don't  know  how  to  *  cut  it 
out ' —  they  just  keep  it  in  —  in —  in  —  and  go  mad  in 
silence." 

It  was  one  o'clock  before  the  lady  was  ready  to  go 
out,  and  even  then  it  took  all  of  her  will-power  to  make 
her  do  what  she  knew  was  best  for  her.  By  three 
o'clock,  she  reasoned,  she  could  call  on  Mrs.  St.  John 
and  Miss  Montgomery,  who  lived  next  door  to  each 
other  in  a  filled-in  gulch  called,  elegantly,  Bryn  Mawr 
Avenue.  She  decided  to  walk  out  east  in  the  mean 
time,  and  see  what  was  to  be  seen  there. 

There  were  endless  numbers  of  dirty  little  young 
sters  playing  on  the  board  walks,  or  right  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  streets,  while  their  mothers  with  shawls 
over  their  heads  and  shoulders,  hung  over  the  fences, 
gossiping. 

Up  on  the  mountain  side  were  the  great  mines  that 
were  the  cause  of  the  Camp's  fame.  The  experts  said 
that  these  mines  would  support  the  people  who  owned 


8o         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

them  —  in  New  York  —  and  the  people  who  worked 
them  —  in  the  Camp  —  for  generations.  Each  mine 
seemed  to  be  a  tiny  village  in  itself,  consisting  of  a 
shaft-house;  a  blacksmith-shop,  where  the  drills  were 
noisily  sharpened;  the  time-keeper's  office  and  the 
change-rooms.  And  besides,  there  were  sheds  and 
stacks  and  dumps  so  big  that  they  never  could  be  carted 
off. 

It  was  all  diverting  to  the  stranger,  even  though  she 
saw  it  all  only  from  the  outside.  Before  she  realised 
it,  it  was  three  o'clock  and  more. 

It  was  a  mile  back  to  Bryn  Mawr  Avenue,  but 
Eleanor  decided  to  walk  in  preference  to  taking  the 
bouncing  little  yellow  car  that  ran  across  town  every 
now  and  then  when  it  had  nothing  better  to  do.  It 
would  have  amused  Dr.  LeRoy  to  have  seen  his  pa 
tient's  vitality,  for  he  had  been  told  (so  many  times 
he  almost  believed  it  true),  that  she  was  obliged 
on  account  of  her  lack  of  strength,  to  use  her  motor 
car  or  take  a  taxicab  for  all  distances  beyond  six 
blocks! 

Rather  weary  but  very  sweet,  the  Camp's  new  resi 
dent  rang  the  bell  of  the  up-stairs  flat  in  a  converted 
house  in  Bryn  Mawr  Avenue.  After  a  long  time  a 
nice  old  lady  appeared  and  politely  said  they  did  not 
want  to  buy  anything  to-day.  Eleanor  tried  to  explain 
that  she  was  merely  calling  on  Miss  Montgomery,  but 
the  old  lady  being  very  deaf  and  seeing  before  her  an 
unfamiliar  face,  assumed  she  must  be  a  book  agent  — 
quite  a  natural  feeling  on  Miss  Burke's  part,  for  had 
she  not  lived  in  the  Camp  since  the  time  when  they 
used  to  bring  in  all  the  provisions  by  mule  pack-train, 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         81 

and  therefore,  didn't  she  know  everybody  by  sight,  at 
least? 

But  at  last  she  excused  herself  and  went  in  for  her 
ear-trumpet  and  matters  were  made  clearer.  She  was 
so  sorry!  Stella  was  out.  Then  the  old  lady  hur 
ried  on  to  tell  the  caller  that  she  was  Stella's  aunt  and 
had  brought  up  the  child  since  her  mother's  death, 
years  before.  She  was  glad  the  purse  had  been  found 
—  Stella  always  felt  badly  about  it  every  time  she  lost 
it,  she  said.  Stella  was  careless  enough,  goodness 
knows,  ordinarily,  but  lately  she  just  went  about  like 
one  in  a  trance.  Maybe  she  was  ill?  And  finally, 
Eleanor  gradually  edged  herself  out  of  ear-shot,  and 
bowing  pleasantly,  she  went  in  next  door,  leaving  the 
old  lady  smiling  and  bidding  her  come  another  day. 

Mrs.  St.  John  had  a  big,  plain,  comfortable  house  of 
two  stories,  very  home-like  and  pretty  inside,  Eleanor 
thought  as  she  sat  awaiting  that  lady's  appearance. 
She  had  offered  the  maid  a  card,  but  that  buxom  young 
foreigner  seemed  suspicious  of  it,  and  refused  to  take 
it  up  to  her  mistress,  so  Eleanor  was  just  putting  it  back 
in  her  case  when  Mrs.  St.  John  ran  down  the  stairs, 
lightly,  dressed  for  the  street  in  a  well-made  tailored 
suit  and  a  moderate  hat  for  the  prevailing  fashion  — 
one  which,  could,  on  a  pinch,  be  worn  almost  entirely 
under  an  umbrella. 

Mrs.  St.  John  was  refreshingly  natural  and  glad  to 
see  her  visitor,  expressing  her  gratification  in  her  hav 
ing  come  to  see  her  so  soon.  "  And  shall  we  have  a 
cup  of  tea  here,"  she  asked,  "  or  will  you  come  down 
to  the  country  club  with  me?  " 

"  It  would  be  very  nice  to  see  your  country  club, 


82         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Mrs.  St.  John,"  Eleanor  said,  while  trying  to  see  her 
way  out  of  going  there. 

"  Everybody  will  be  ever  so  glad  to  see  you,1'  Mrs. 
St.  John  explained.  "  You  don't  know  yet,  of  course, 
how  glad  we  all  are  of  a  new  face.  I  have  lived  here 
for  years,  and  life  is  always  the  same,  except  that  every 
once  in  a  while  everybody  is  a  year  older  than  he  used 
to  be.  Newcomers  sometimes  think  us  unusually 
friendly,  but  our  attentions,  I  grieve  to  say,  are  more 
than  half  based  upon  desperation.  We  need  the 
strangers,  even  more  than  they  need  us."  But  she 
hesitated,  for  her  caller  looked  uncertain  in  her  own 
mind.  "  Won't  you  come?  "  she  urged. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,"  Eleanor  replied,  sincerely. 
"  I  should  be  glad  to,  if  I  were  going  out." 

"  One  must  go  out  —  or  go  crazy  —  in  this  place !  " 
briskly  said  Mrs.  St.  John,  adroitly  fencing  off  the 
other  woman's  seriousness. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  soon  they  were  out  in 
the  cool  mountain  air  together,  glad  of  their  autumn 
clothes  when  on  the  shady  side  of  the  street,  and 
vaguely  glad  of  a  number  of  things  —  principally  each 
other. 


CHAPTER  IX 

T?  LEANOR  was  much  surprised  to  find  herself  in 
•"  the  midst  of  an  afternoon  tea,  upon  arriving  at 
the  club  house;  and  for  an  instant  she  was  self-con 
scious  —  it  had  been  some  time  since  she  had  gone  out 
among  people. 

"  It  isn't  a  party,"  Mrs.  St.  John  volunteered. 
"  You  won't  mind  it  at  all,  Mrs.  Evanston.  We  all 
try  to  run  down  here  for  a  cup  of  tea  together  on  Sat 
urday  afternoons." 

Suddenly  as  the  shyness  had  come,  it  departed,  for 
already  from  the  windows  they  saw  four  golfers 
headed  for  the  club  house,  with  Dr.  Marsden  in  the 
lead.  He  opened  the  porch  screen  door  for  them, 
banging  it  after  the  last  man  as  nobody  before  or  since 
his  time  has  ever  banged  a  door.  He  shook  the  en 
tire  frame  work  of  the  porch  screens,  then  stepped  into 
the  big  room.  His  practised  eye  fell  upon  Mrs.  St. 
John  and  her  guest  instantly,  and  before  it  was  possible 
for  these  ladies  to  speak  with  anyone  else,  the  doctor 
was  warmly  shaking  hands,  and  sending  an  unnecessary 
grin  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Crawford  Mansfield  Kerr, 
who  stood  wiping  his  glasses,  near  the  fireplace,  pre 
paratory  to  getting  a  clearer  view  of  "  the  widow  "  as 
he  persisted  in  calling  the  new  arrival  in  Camp. 

"  Well,  this  is  good,  indeed !  "  cheerily  announced 
the  doctor,  grasping  Eleanor's  hand.  "  We  are  de 
lighted  to  see  you  —  welcome  to  our  city !  "  And  with 
a  comic  low  bow  that  made  everybody  smile,  he 

83 


84         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

started  right  in  with  his  usual  monopoly  by  deftly  pilot 
ing  her  to  the  window  seat. 

But  this  was  not  to  last,  by  any  means.  No  sooner 
had  they  made  themselves  comfortable,  and  Mrs.  St. 
John  had  gone  to  get  some  of  the  women  to  introduce 
her  guest,  than  the  door  to  the  men's  quarters  was 
thrown  open  and  slammed  shut  with  a  vigour  that  sent 
a  cold  chill  down  the  spine  of  those  not  used  to  the 
Camp  way  of  passing  through  doors.  Mr.  Barton 
Colby  had  shed  his  golf  clothes,  and  was  now  dressed 
for  his  automobile,  cap  in  hand,  on  his  way  to  show 
his  contempt  for  afternoon  tea  by  hurrying  through 
the  room  without  allowing  anyone  to  stop  him  —  yet 
he  could  have  left  by  the  side  entrance  much  more  con 
veniently. 

Mr.  Colby's  shrewd  glance  never  missed  much  in 
life,  and  it  took  him  just  about  the  eighteenth  part  of 
one  second  to  notice  the  "  twosome  "  on  the  window 
seat.  He  slackened  his  pace  when  abreast  of  the  fire 
place  and  Mr.  Kerr.  "  Would  you  like  me  to  intro 
duce  you?  "  he  sweetly  asked. 

Mr.  Kerr  felt  a  wave  of  annoyance  at  the  patronis 
ing  youngster,  but  he  followed  on  just  the  same,  un 
consciously  adjusting  his  big,  flowing,  black  "  artist's  " 
tie. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Evanston!"  young  Colby 
said,  smiling  at  her,  and  acknowledging  the  doctor  by 
a  nod.  "  I  am  so  sorry  to  have  to  report  that  the  doc 
tor  must  tear  himself  away.  You  see  he  is  the  only 
member  of  the  house  committee  present,  and  they  are 
looking  for  him.  Our  China-boy  has  been  sipping  the 
rye,  and,  in  consequence,  is  so  slow  about  getting  the 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         85 

steam  up  for  the  tea  that  the  dames  are  all  growing 
restless." 

The  doctor  rose  reluctantly,  remarking  as  he  left, 
with  poorly  covered  sarcasm  (for  Colby  was  always 
getting  the  best  of  him  some  way  or  other),  "Mr. 
Colby  is  our  most  valued  member  here,  Mrs.  Evans- 
ton.  I  don't  know  how  we  should  ever  get  on  with 
out  him  —  he  is  so  very  solicitous  about  the  ladies'  tea ! 
I  shall  investigate  the  matter  of  the  Chinaman  and  the 
rye,  if  you  will  excuse  me." 

"Perhaps  you  will  come  back,  Doctor?"  she  sug 
gested,  never  taking  her  eyes  from  Colby,  incidentally. 

"  Oh  yes  —  the  doctor  always  comes  back,"  Mr. 
Colby  answered  for  Dr.  Marsden,  to  whose  retreating 
figure  he  bowed  humorously.  Then  turning  back  to 
the  lady,  he  said,  "  Mrs.  Evanston,  may  I  present  Mr. 
Kerr?  Mr.  Kerr  is  the  town  beau  —  it  is  less  embar 
rassing  for  me  to  tell  you  this  frankly,  than  it  would  be 
for  him  to  confide  it  subtly.  And  he  can't  help  flush 
ing  up." 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  smile,  so  the  three  of 
them  smiled  and  sat  down  —  young  Colby  slipping  out 
of  his  top  coat  which  he  tossed  onto  a  chair. 

But  fate  had  no  idea  of  letting  this  "  threesome  " 
alone,  either.  They  had  just  got  over  the  proper  little 
remarks  and  so  on,  when  the  China-boy  himself  ap 
peared,  covering  the  distance  to  them  in  a  rolling  gait 
partly  due  to  his  short-soled  native  shoes,  and  partly 
to  the  club's  whisky,  his  loose  Chinese  clothes  flapping 
on  his  thin  frame,  and  his  pig-tail  flying  out  behind  him. 

Reaching  the  group  he  chanted  in  his  sing-song  way, 
"  Misty  Stone,  him  no  findy  locker  key.  He  likey  talk 


86         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

for  Misty  Colby,  light  off  quick!  "  Then  with  an  evil 
glance  through  the  narrow  slit  in  his  heathen  eye-lids, 
he  whirled  and  departed  to  bring  the  big  samovar. 

"  There  is  no  peace  in  life,"  sadly  remarked  Mr. 
Colby,  bowing  himself  away  toward  the  locker  room. 
"  But  I  will  see  you  again,  shortly." 

"  What  a  fascinating  boy  he  is !  "  exclaimed 
Eleanor,  who  had  found  him,  so  far,  most  refreshing. 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  asked  Mr.  Kerr. 

"  Don't  you?"  She  came  right  back  with  a  ques 
tion  mark. 

"  At  times,"  he  owned,  but  none  too  enthusiastically. 
"  At  other  times  —  well  — " 

"  At  other  times?  "  she  persisted,  gently. 

"  At  other  times,"  said  Mr.  Kerr  in  comic  earnest 
ness,  "  one  would  dearly  love  to  wring  his  neck." 

"Possibly  you  take  him  too  seriously?"  the  lady 
suggested. 

"  Everybody  takes  Barton  Colby  seriously  —  at 
least  once,"  Mr.  Kerr  gloomily  told  her.  "  He  is,  in 
his  way,  a  powerful  fellow  whom  one  cannot  dismiss 
with  indifference.  But  he  ruins  more  good  dispositions 
than  you  would  ever  believe.  It  will  be  your  turn  next, 
probably." 

The  outsider's  reply  to  this  dire  prophecy  was 
checked  by  the  reappearance  of  Mrs.  St.  John,  who  was 
bringing  up  two  prettily-gowned  young  matrons  to 
meet  her.  "  Have  I  caught  you  talking  about  Barton 
again,  Mansfield  Kerr?"  she  gaily  demanded. 

"  Yes,"  he  confessed  honourably,  "  but  I  let  him 
down  easier  than  usual,  owing  to  your  motherly  belief 
that  he  may  grow  up  some  day." 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         87 

"  Barton  is  the  salt  of  the  earth!  "  she  stoutly  de 
fended  him.  "  And  now  may  I  introduce  Mrs.  Peters, 
Mrs.  Evanston?  And  Mrs.  Cuthbert,  Mrs.  Evans- 
ton?" 

And  then  Mrs.  St.  John  went  away  to  preside  at  the 
tea  table. 

Eleanor,  even  at  this  early  time  in  her  associations 
with  the  people  of  the  Camp,  was  remarking  to  her 
self  that  they  accepted  her  as  one  of  themselves,  with 
out  question.  Of  course  Eleanor  had  been  accepted 
all  her  life;  but  heretofore,  she  had  always  been 
known.  In  this  place  she  happened  to  be  quite  un 
known,  yet  the  atmosphere  seemed  singularly  free  from 
the  usual  little  inquiries  of  "  How  long  have  you  been 
here?  "  "  Where  did  you  come  from?  "  and  "  How 
long  are  you  going  to  stay  ?  " 

When  the  truth  was  sifted  down,  nobody  here  knew  a 
thing  on  earth  about  her,  except  what  they,  themselves, 
had  observed.  She  had  brought  no  letters.  She  was 
alone  and  unexplained  —  and  accepted  and  unques 
tioned.  Was  this  the  West?  Such  extraordinary  faith 
would  hardly  have  been  possible  in  the  East,  certainly. 
And  would  this  ideal  spirit  of  hospitality  last  if  she 
said  nothing  now  and  remained  silent  indefinitely?  It 
would  be  rather  amusing  to  know,  wouldn't  it? 
Eleanor  indistinctly  considered  these  things  as  she  ex 
changed  the  conventional  afternoon  remarks  with  the 
young  matrons,  supported  by  the  presence  of  Mr. 
Crawford  Mansfield  Kerr. 

The  opening  words  of  the  average  persons,  meet 
ing  for  the  first  time,  are  like  the  early  part  of  a  game 
of  checkers  —  so  easy  in  their  sequence  —  that  one 


88         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

hardly  needs  to  keep  her  mind  on  the  subject,  so 
Eleanor  was  both  talking  and  wondering  if  she  had 
heard  the  Chinaman  correctly  when  he  mentioned  the 
name  of  him  who  wished  to  speak  with  Mr.  Colby. 
Was  it  Stone  —  the  Mr.  Stone  ?  The  very  idea  itself 
lent  a  peculiar  vitality  to  the  situation. 

Her  question  was  answered  for  her  within  the  in 
stant. 

As  the  two  new  acquaintances  left  her  and  Mr.  Kerr, 
to  assist  Mrs.  St.  John,  the  door  to  the  men's  quarters 
was  suddenly  jerked  wide  open,  in  spite  of  the  strong 
closing  spring  on  it,  and  two  attractive  young  men 
stepped  into  the  big  room  —  Mr.  Barton  Colby  smil 
ing  affectionately  at  his  companion,  who  winced 
slightly  as  the  door  slammed  shut,  with  the  true  Camp 
slam. 

The  room  was  interested  at  once  in  the  two  young 
men  —  quite  as  interested  as  the  young  men  seemed 
to  be  in  each  other. 

Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  was  tall  and  blond  and  serious. 
He  had  a  grown-up  sort  of  smile  —  one  that  was  there, 
possibly,  more  because  the  man  felt  it  due  the  world, 
than  because  of  anything  verging  upon  spontaneity. 
What  lay  back  of  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone's  smile  was  one 
of  the  favourite  topics  of  conversation  among  the  la 
dies,  who  at  this  moment  were  all  interested  in  seeing 
whether  he  was  coming  up  to  the  tea  table,  or  merely 
about  to  walk  past  it  with  one  bow  to  them  all. 

Some  people  seem  to  fascinate  the  world  by  their 
very  stubbornness  and  their  excellent  manner  of  having 
their  own  way  always  —  their  way  and  your  thanks  — 
and  Mr.  Stone  was  one  of  these.  Of  course  every  man 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         89 

present  knew  that  when  Mr.  Stone  finished  his  golf  he 
had  a  high-ball,  if  he  wanted  one,  in  the  men's  quarters 
with  his  partners  in  the  game,  and  that  he  left  the 
building  by  the  side  door.  They  never  wasted  any 
good  breath  asking  him  to  join  the  ladies  in  the  big 
room.  If  there  was  anything  Mr.  Stone  seemed  per 
fectly  capable  to  do  without  in  this  life,  it  was  the 
ladies. 

Every  woman  present  knew  that  every  other  woman 
present  had  done  her  prettiest  to  establish  some  little 
influence  with  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone,  but  he  never  was 
known  to  do  a  single  thing  that  any  of  them  ever 
wanted  him  to  do.  He  looked  entertained  when  they 
told  him  how  his  fine  voice  and  good  singing  thrilled 
them,  but  this  did  not  signify  that  he  had  the  least  in 
tention  of  singing  at  any  newsboy  benefits.  He  seemed 
most  appreciative  of  being  asked  to  dinner  parties,  but 
it  did  not  follow  that  he  ever  went  to  them.  He  had, 
during  his  life  in  the  Camp,  been  seen  three  times  at 
balls,  and  was  known  to  have  danced  with  Miss  Stella 
Montgomery  once.  How  Stella  ever  managed  this 
triumph,  nobody  knew,  but  the  popular  theory  was  that 
for  once  Thorny  Stone  got  into  a  place  which  had  only 
one  way  out. 

As  far  as  could  be  judged,  Mr.  Stone  was  innocent 
of  either  seeing  or  acknowledging  anything  of  the  un 
due  interest  taken  in  him.  Nobody  knew  whether  he 
was  without  vanity,  and  therefore  never  realised  his 
own  magnetism;  or  whether  he  did  appreciate  some 
thing  of  it,  but  possessed  the  rarely  good  taste  not  to 
reveal  the  fact  he  was  amused  or  flattered.  And  be 
cause  nobody  knew  anything  about  how  he  thought  and 


90         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

felt  —  especially  felt  —  about  things,  he  was  positively 
a  disturbing  element  in  the  community. 

To-day  Mr.  Stone  was  dressed  for  riding,  and  was, 
if  possible,  a  shade  better  looking  than  usual.  He 
promptly  bowed  to  the  tea  table  at  large,  bending  over 
his  riding  whip  which  he  held  in  both  hands.  In  an 
swer  to  the  various  treble  exclamations  and  invitations 
to  join  the  festive  tea  drinkers,  he  took  his  fine  grey- 
blue  eyes  from  Mr.  Barton  Colby's  face,  and  called 
across  the  big  room,  "  Thank  you  so  much  —  another 
day !  "  And  then  he  strode  toward  the  front  door, 
while  Mr.  Colby  went  to  the  tea  table,  although  he  al 
ways  "  made  it  a  point  to  avoid  tea,"  did  Mr.  Barton 
Colby. 

"  Shall  we  go  over  and  get  a  cup  of  tea,  Mrs.  Evans- 
ton?"  suggested  Mr.  Kerr,  just  as  Mr.  Stone  was  a 
few  steps  from  the  big  door  near  them. 

"  In  a  moment,  Mr.  Kerr,"  she  begged  off,  giving 
him  the  idea  by  some  subtle  method  of  her  own,  that 
she  wanted  to  enjoy  his  society  alone  a  moment  longer. 
But  as  matter  of  fact  she  shrank  back  into  the  cushions 
and  shadows  as  far  as  she  could,  with  the  purpose  of 
avoiding  getting  herself  in  line  with  Mr.  Stone's  eyes. 
A  perfect  tumult  of  emotion  was  raging  through  her,  in 
spite  of  her  insistence  that  it  was  all  wrong  and  un 
reasonable  in  her  to  flatter  this  man  by  noticing  his  ex 
istence,  even  in  her  own  mind.  She  was  battling  hard 
to  appear  quite  natural,  but  Mr.  Kerr  knew  nothing 
of  this. 

Just  as  Eleanor  feared  Mr.  Stone  might  see  her, 
Miss  Stella  Montgomery  stepped  out  of  the  women's 
quarters,  whose  door  was  at  right  angles  with  the  front 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         91 

entrance,  so  this  took  away  Eleanor's  apprehension. 
He  now  was  back  to  her  and  Mr.  Kerr. 

Stella  seemed  wonderful  to-day  —  so  lithe  and  blond 
and  sad.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  becoming 
than  the  white  broadcloth  gown  and  the  large  dark 
green  hat  she  wore.  And  for  the  instant  that  she 
leaned  against  the  door  she  had  just  closed,  with  her 
newly-restored  silver  purse  clasped  to  her  breast  with 
one  hand,  looking  at  Crathorne  Stone  as  if  he  were  all 
of  life  and  most  of  death  to  her  —  she  was  beauti 
ful. 

The  tall,  blond  young  man  who  stood  against  the 
other  door  smiling  back  at  her,  seemed  both  invincible 
and  stunning. 

Eleanor  missed  not  a  single  shade  of  the  significance 
of  their  meeting.  She  felt  fearfully  old,  alone  and  far 
away  —  perhaps  off  somewhere  like  that  place  which 
one  sees  through  the  wrong  end  of  an  opera  glass. 
She  felt  about  that  size,  and  very  much  out  of  every 
thing.  Mr.  Kerr  affably  entertained  her  with  a  neat 
list  of  all  the  impressions  she  would  eventually  form 
of  the  Camp,  and  she  was  so  very  still  that  he  gained 
descriptive  power,  and  he  would  truly  have  amused  her 
greatly,  if  she  had  been  paying  the  least  attention  to 
him. 

Miss  Stella  Montgomery  joined  Mr.  Stone  at  the 
front  door.  Mr.  Stone  complacently  waited  for  her. 
He  stood  holding  the  doorknob,  showing  that  he 
realised  it  was  not  in  the  least  necessary  for  him  to 
move.  He  seemed  willing  that  Stella  should  come  to 
him  —  even  pleased.  But  Miss  Stella  Montgomery 
did  the  coming  —  all  of  the  coming  —  which  for  some 


92         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

good,  yet  hidden  reason  of  her  own,  almost  upset 
Eleanor  into  uttering  a  nervous  little  laugh.  She 
checked  herself  in  time,  and  drew  farther  back  into  her 
corner,  among  the  pillows  and  the  words  of  Mr.  Craw 
ford  Mansfield  Kerr. 

Miss  Montgomery's  remark  to  Mr.  Stone  was  so 
low  in  tone  that  they  did  not  catch  it  on  the  window 
seat,  around  the  edge  of  the  piano.  But  Mr.  Stone's 
irresistible  laugh  carried  to  them,  and  Eleanor  heard 
him  say  to  the  girl,  "  Well,  I'm  glad  you  got  it  back. 
But  about  that  snap-shot  of  me  meaning  what  you  say  — 
well  really,  you  know,  you  ought  to  remember,  I'm 
jolly-proof!"  Then  followed  some  broken  remark 
about  having  to  hurry  back  to  the  office  —  expecting  a 
long-distance  call  —  and  so  on. 

Whenever  any  man  in  the  Camp  could  not  think  of 
a  better  excuse  for  going  away  from  anywhere  when  he 
got  ready  to  go,  he  u  was  expecting  a  long-distance  tele 
phone  call."  Men  the  world  over,  we  know,  reserve 
the  right  to  go  and  come  as  they  please,  but  the  men  in 
the  Camp  not  only  reserved  the  right  —  but  they  exe 
cuted  it.  So  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  smiled  and  left, 
just  as  Stella  knew  he  would,  even  though  every  atom 
of  her  being  begged  him  to  stay. 

The  slender  girl  trembled  as  Mr.  Stone  shut  him 
self  and  his  laugh  outside,  and  let  into  the  warm  room 
a  breath  of  the  chill  out-of-doors  air.  She  closed  her 
eyes  tight  as  if  trying  to  press  back  the  threatening 
tears,  then  she  turned  to  join  the  crowd  around  Mrs. 
St.  John.  Her  little  call  of  greeting  to  everybody  was 
a  very,  very  pretty  bit  of  pluck.  And  when  she 
reached  the  table,  two  of  the  Camp  gallants  went  to 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         93 

rather  more  than  their  usual  bother  in  offering  her  their 
chairs. 

"  We  might  go  over  for  that  cup  of  tea  now,  if  you 
like,  Mr.  Kerr,"  ventured  Eleanor. 

Society's  new  "  prospect "  as  Mr.  Colby  had  called 
her,  being  distinctly  lovely  to  rest  one's  tired  eye  upon, 
all  but  two  of  the  Camp's  eligible  beaux  jumped  to 
their  feet,  as  she  and  Mr.  Kerr  approached  the  table. 
And  in  the  course  of  time,  the  two  slow  ones  got  up,  as 
it  came  their  turn  to  be  introduced.  These  were  the 
only  two  names  Eleanor  could  recall  when  she  got 
home,  so  the  possibility  is  that,  after  all,  some  gain 
may  be  expected  from  allowing  one's  manners  to 
grow  careless  when  one  takes  up  his  life  in  frontier 
places. 

"  I  was  telling  Mrs.  Evanston  on  our  way  down 
here,"  began  Mrs.  St.  John  when  everyone  was  seated 
again,  "  that  she  ought  to  have  come  out  here  in  the 
good  old  days  of  Carl  Heilberg,  when  there  was  some 
thing  going  on.  We  are  all  so  dead-and-alive  now." 

A  general  laugh  followed  this,  and  Dr.  Marsden 
added,  "  Yes  —  but  weren't  we  kept  fagged  out  in  the 
old  days,  though?  I  don't  believe  I  got  to  bed  before 
two  in  the  morning,  once  in  a  dog's  age  —  there  were 
so  many  parties  and  talking-bees  over  the  everlasting 
feuds  of  the  Heilberg  factions  with  the  Consolidated, 
and  the  Consolidated  with  the  rest  of  them !  " 

"  The  principal  difference  between  those  days  and 
these  days,"  drawled  Miss  Montgomery,  "  is  that  in 
those  days  we  were  not  peacefully  dead-and-alive,  but 
simply  —  dead." 

"  Well  you  women  have  the  best  of  the  social  life," 


94         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

young  Colby  maintained,  "  because  you  can  sleep  all 
day.  But  anyway,  I  am  sorry  I  came  out  here  too  late 
to  be  in  the  thick  of  the  row.  I'd  stake  my  machine  I 
should  have  got  more  fun  out  of  it  than  I  did  out  of 
the  time  I  was  a  lawyer." 

Apparently  this  was  a  story  the  Camp  was  not  fa 
miliar  with,  for  its  introduction  was  greeted  with  all 
sorts  of  expressions  of  encouragement  and  discourage 
ment. 

"  Well,  don't  take  it  so  hard,  everybody !  "  the  boy 
begged  them.  "  I  don't  insist  upon  telling  the  story 
of  my  life,  but  a  kind  of  pride  in  the  city  is  responsible 
for  my  always  trying  to  interfere  with  any  new  discus 
sion  on  the  old  feud.  Why,  believe  me,  Mrs.  Evans- 
ton,"  he  went  on,  addressing  the  guest  of  the  after 
noon,  "  we  can't  be  trusted  a  minute  not  to  get  into 
noisy  rumpuses  over  the  old  Camp  battles.  We  make 
more  ado  over  them  than  the  men  did  who  actually 
fought  in  the  original  issues.  Do  you  blame  me  for 
trying  to  preserve  the  peace  —  at  least  until  you  under 
stand  how  hard-pressed  we  are  for  topics  of  conversa 
tion?" 

"  Now,  Barton  Colby,"  began  Mrs.  St.  John,  with 
spirit,  "  that  is  absurd,  for  in  all  the  years  I  have  lived 
here,  Carl  Heilberg  never  once  — " 

"  We're  off !  "  exclaimed  the  boy,  imitating  the  ex 
citement  of  a  horse  race.  "  I  thought  I  could  start 
something!  " 

It  all  seemed  a  great  joke  to  these  people,  and  Ele 
anor  entered  into  the  humour  with  sympathy,  although, 
naturally,  she  hardly  knew  what  it  was  all  about.  And 
it  proved  quite  unnecessary  for  her  to  say  anything,  for 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         95 

Dr.  Marsden  broke  up  the  gathering  shortly  by  an 
nouncing  he  had  promised  to  show  her  the  view  from 
the  porches. 

The  doctor  took  more  than  his  usual  pains  to  make  a 
good  impression,  showing  the  club's  guest  the  great 
Lone  Cone  on  the  west  edge  of  town  and  suggesting 
like  a  well-trained  guide  that  the  mountain  was  almost 
Japanese  in  effect,  if  one  saw  it  at  night.  Eleanor  was 
already  quite  familiar  with  the  butte,  but  she  politely 
accepted  it  as  a  new  sight.  She  shivered  slightly  as  she 
recalled  the  night  not  far  off  when  she  had  appealed  to 
it  to  speak  to  her. 

At  length  she  gently  interrupted  the  doctor's  scenic 
descriptions  by,  "  Who  is  this  man  Heilberg  that  they 
call  by  his  first  name  with  suppressed  pride  in  being 
on  intimate  terms  with  him?  " 

"  It  is  rather  keen  of  you  to  detect  that  characteristic 
of  the  people  here,"  he  commented,  drawing  a  bit 
nearer  the  young  woman  who  seemed  to  look  so  far 
out  at  things  like  mountains,  and  so  far  in  at  things  like 
people. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  she  repeated,  not  taking  up  the  per 
sonal  opening  he  offered  her. 

"  Why,  let  me  see  if  I  can  explain  him.  Carl  Heil 
berg  is  a  queer  sort  of  Camp  combination  hero  and 
villain.  He  came  out  here  when  the  Camp  was 
young,  and  he  was  even  younger  —  just  out  of  college. 
He  has  taken  it  upon  himself  to  discipline  mankind  for 
all  of  the  nagging  little  things  it  has  done  for  the  past 
decades." 

"  Quite  a  fair-sized  undertaking,"  remarked  his  com 
panion. 


96         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  Yes.  Heilberg's  undertakings  are  never  small," 
the  doctor  assured  her.  "  Well,  as  I  say,  he  drifted 
out  here  and  pounded  a  few  stakes  in  every  piece  of 
ground  that  looked  good  to  him,  whether  it  ha'd  pre 
viously  been  taken  up,  or  not,  and  the  game  began  right 
then  and  there.  From  that  day  to  this,  there  have 
been  endless  fights  with  tongues,  fists,  guns  and  the  law, 
trying  to  decide  who  owned  what,  and  who  stood  as 
friend  and  who  as  foe,  and  so  on.  It's  all  somewhat 
complicated,  and  I  would  try  to  explain  further,  except 
that  honesty  compels  me  to  state  that  I  am  like  ninety- 
five  per  cent,  of  the  present  population  —  I'm  not  sure 
I  know  what  it's  all  about,  myself!  " 

"  It's  full  of  possibilities  for  a  modern  business 
drama,  isn't  it?  "  she  suggested. 

"  Perhaps,"  the  man  agreed  lamely,  u  but  personally 
I  prefer  the  so-called  society  drama.  I  like  the  more 
charming  type  of  play  that  deals  with  the  problems  of 
some  lovely  woman  —  not  those  of  some  chump  of  a 


man." 


The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  old  Lone  Cone,  but 
before  it  dropped  quite  out  of  sight,  it  sent  its  parting 
rays  to  put  a  rose  tint  on  Eleanor's  clear  white  cheeks, 
and  to  add  depth  to  the  redness  of  her  mouth,  and  to 
show  up  more  plainly  the  length,  the  thickness  and  the 
lustre  of  her  gorgeous  eye-lashes.  The  breath  of  some 
exultation  seemed  to  be  upon  the  woman,  and  the  smile 
that  comes  from  a  well-amused  consciousness  played 
about  her.  She  was  very  still,  but  it  was  only  for  a 
fleeting  moment. 

Suddenly  she  said,  "  Isn't  it  soothing  to  be  studied  — 
even  when  you  know  that  he  who  is  doing  it,  is  only 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         97 

trying  to  do  that  which  he  thinks  will  best  appeal  to 
your  vanity?  " 

"  I  fancy  you  will  be  studied  enough  in  this  Camp," 
he  replied,  with  a  little  pique,  for  no  man  likes  to  have 
his  finest  pretences  laughed  at.  And  in  his  tone  there 
was  a  slight  intimation  that  he  felt  he  was  speaking 
with  some  private  knowledge  of  the  future. 

The  quaint  playfulness  of  the  lady  was  gone. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  should  really  like,  even  more 
than  to  be  studied,  Doctor?  "  she  asked,  sincerely. 

"  What?  "  he  questioned  her,  briefly,  but  full  of  curi 
osity. 

"  A  miner's  candle-stick/'  she  surprised  him. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  why?  " 

11  I  don't  know  exactly,"  she  acknowledged.  "  But 
once  I  saw  one  that  came  from  a  gold  mine  in  Colo 
rado,  and  ever  since  I  have  wanted  one  of  my  own." 

"  Well,  that  will  be  very  easily  arranged,"  the  doc 
tor  said,  cheerfully.  "  They  probably  have  endless  bar 
rels  of  them  at  the  Montana  Mining  Supply  Com 
pany's  for  fifty  cents  apiece." 

"  But  I  don't  want  one  of  those,"  she  protested. 
"  I  want  an  old  one  that  some  miner  has  used  and  some 
friend  has  brought  me." 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  he  pledged  himself.  But  his 
manner  became  lighter  as  he  reverted  to  the  theme 
upon  which  he  had  not  been  satisfied.  "  Tell  me,"  he 
insisted,  "  do  you  arrive  at  conclusions,  or  do  the  con 
clusions  come  to  you?  Your  hitting  upon  the  un 
spoken  feeling  of  Heilberg's  friends  has  caught  my 
curiosity,  you  see." 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  kindly.     "  But,  Doctor,  what  dif- 


98         THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

ference  does  it  make  —  and  how  do  I  know  —  and  am 
I  to  be  a  sort  of  mental  clinic  for  you,  I  wonder?  " 

"  It  interests  me,"  he  announced,  positively. 

"Well,  if  you  must  know,  Doctor,"  she  said  (and 
no  man  alive  could  have  told  whether  she  was  serious 
or  playful),  "  I  suppose  I  am  a  kind  of  human  pipe 
organ  upon  which  life  plays  whatever  tune  strikes  its 
fancy.  If  the  '  conclusions  '  you  have  in  mind  are  con 
tained  in  the  tunes,  I  should  say  they  come  to  me. 
This  is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  my  '  mental 
process,'  so  far  as  I  am  able  to  describe  it.  Sorry  if  I 
am  not  perfectly  clear."  And  then  she  smiled  such  a 
very  amused  smile,  that  young  Dr.  Marsden  was  per 
plexed,  indeed. 

"  A  living  pipe  organ,"  he  repeated,  as  though  the 
idea  gave  him  material  for  thinking,  "  and  I  imagine 
most  of  the  melodies  are  in  a  plaintive  key,  aren't 
they?  "  But  getting  no  answer,  he  boldly  went  on,  "  I 
venture  to  say  that  you  live  somewhere  just  about  in  the 
key  of  A  minor." 

The  woman  looked  up  at  him  almost  impersonally 
and  remarked,  "  The  key  of  A  minor  is  very  easy  to 
play  in,  isn't  it?  It  has  only  one  black  note  in  its 
scale." 

"  And  what  is  that  one  black  note?  "  asked  the  doc 
tor,  intensely,  evidently  expecting  that  the  lady  would 
give  him  some  item  concerning  the  facts  or  feeling  of 
her  own  life. 

Eleanor  stood  her  ground  with  admirable  com 
posure.  She  smiled  up  at  him  reflectively  and  said, 
41  Why  that  one  black  note  is  — " 

"  Yes?  "  the  doctor  urged  her  on,  with  the  force  of 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE         99 

a  man  who  means  to  get  what  he  has  started  out  to  get. 

"  Well,  let  me  see !  "  the  lady  finished  the  revelation 
the  man  was  demanding,  "  It's  G  sharp,  isn't  it?  " 

And  just  here  Mr.  Barton  Colby  whirled  around  the 
corner  of  the  porch,  saying  briskly,  "  I've  been  hunting 
the  place  over  for  you,  Doc.  I  am  sorry  to  take  Mrs. 
Evanston  away  from  your  stirring  company,  but  Mrs. 
St.  John  has  asked  me  to  rescue  her.  The  ladies  are 
going  up  town  with  me,  as  Mrs.  St.  John  says  she 
doesn't  mind  the  rumble  seat." 

"  That  is  nice  of  you,  Mr.  Colby,"  the  lady  said,  in 
the  meantime  extending  her  hand  to  Dr.  Marsden,  to 
whom  she  remarked,  u  You  must  tell  me  some  more 
about  the  marvellous  workings  of  these  mines  another 
time,  Doctor." 

"  With  pleasure,"  he  said,  stiffly,  bowing  an  adieu. 

Walking  beside  Mr.  Colby,  Eleanor  looked  at  him 
with  pleasurable  anticipation,  saying,  "  Is  Mrs.  St. 
John  to  take  the  back  seat,  so  that  you  will  have  an 
opportunity  to  tell  me  about  the  time  when  you  were  a 
lawyer,  Mr.  Colby?  " 

"  You  have  a  remarkable  memory  for  details,  Mrs. 
Evanston,"  the  boy  said  with  gravity,  holding  open  the 
screen  door  for  her  to  pass  through  to  his  motor. 
"  But  really  it  isn't  safe  for  me  to  select  such  an  ab 
sorbing  topic  as  myself  when  I  am  driving  the  car.  In 
my  enthusiasm  over  my  own  achievements,  I  might  for 
get  which  cranks  are  which,  and  hurt  somebody.  But 
it's  a  ripping  good  story,  though !  " 


CHAPTER  X 

Saturday  afternoon  had  been  very  absorbing 
to  Eleanor,  but  now  it  was  all  over  —  Mrs.  St. 
John's  voice  had  travelled  off  into  the  air  somewhere 
with  her  friendly  good-bye,  and  Mr.  Barton  Colby's 
plucky  racing  roadster  was  ever  so  far  away  from  the 
top  of  Copper  Hill  by  this  time.  Martha  was  at 
home  when  her  mistress  returned,  of  course,  but  Mar 
tha  was  as  glum  as  the  early  winter  clouds  which  were 
settling  down  upon  the  mountains.  The  bungalow 
was  charming  in  itself,  but  —  oh !  —  how  still  it  was ! 

Winter  sets  in  rather  suddenly  and  seriously  in  the 
Northwest.  The  chill  wind  that  began  to  whistle 
around  the  small  cement  and  shingle  house  in  its  ex 
posed  position  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  held  a  note  of 
warning.  October  wished  one  to  understand  it  was 
quite  tired  of  being  pleasant  —  it  was  in  a  beastly 
humour,  and  glad  of  it.  The  burning  logs  on  the 
hearth  did  not  give  enough  warmth,  although  they  had 
been  more  than  sufficient  in  the  early  afternoon. 

With  a  sigh,  Eleanor  pulled  off  her  gloves  and  un 
buttoned  her  jacket  reluctantly.  She  remembered,  as 
she  laid  her  things  down  on  a  chair,  that  they  had  told 
her  at  the  real  estate  office  when  she  took  the  bungalow 
that  she  would  be  obliged  to  run  all  the  stoves  pretty 
hard  in  order  to  keep  comfortable  in  winter,  and  she 
no  longer  doubted  the  statement.  With  an  independ 
ence  heretofore  never  known  in  her,  she  investigated 
the  air-tight  wood  stove  in  the  "  dining  room  corner  " 

100 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       101 

of  the  great  room.  Some  of  Burns'  old  ashes  were  still 
in  it,  but  no  matter.  The  lady  decided  the  fire  would 
burn  all  the  better  for  them,  so  she  crumpled  up  a  news 
paper  and  piled  in  some  small  pieces  from  the  wood 
basket,  and  on  top  of  them  three  short,  stocky  blocks 
of  wood.  In  just  a  moment  the  little  stove  was  scorch 
ing  hot,  and  she  carefully  screwed  tight  the  draught. 
The  room  became  tempered  agreeably  in  five  minutes. 
"  Well !  "  Eleanor  exclaimed  cordially  to  the  stove, 
"  I  say  you're  a  darling,  and  I'm  sorry  I  ever  intimated 
that  you  didn't  improve  the  looks  of  the  room !  " 

But  when  she  tried  to  appeal  to  Martha  to  enjoy  the 
novelty  with  her,  she  was  brought  immediately  to  the 
realisation  that  the  cruel  October  wind  in  the  great 
Northwest,  isn't  of  necessity  the  coldest  thing  on  earth. 
Martha,  it  seemed,  was  so  depressed,  she  did  not  even 
try  to  be  decent.  She  plainly  showed  she  felt  she 
would  rather  be  dead  than  keeping  the  contract  she 
had  made  —  to  remain  with  her  employer  for  one  year 
under  whatever  conditions  might  exist,  in  whatever 
place  they  might  find  themselves,  for  the  consideration 
of  twice  her  usual  wage. 

She  raised  her  heavy,  sulky  eyes  in  crushing  disap 
proval,  then  she  stalked  back  to  the  kitchen  —  not  hav 
ing  offered  to  help  make  the  fire,  or  break  the  silence 
of  the  house,  or  show  any  sign  of  life  -whatever.  She 
sank  deeper  and  deeper  into  her  disgust  with  her  situa 
tion. 

"  Hum-m !  "  the  lady  drawled  as  the  pantry  door 
swung  to,  shutting  the  sullen  maid  from  her  view,  "  I 
venture  to  predict  that  we  shall  be  having  a  very  happy, 
gay  time  around  here  this  evening!  " 


102       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

What  she  had  for  dinner  Eleanor  never  knew.  But 
she  was  absent-mindedly  aware  of  being  horribly  alone, 
and  of  staying  the  usual  length  jf  time  in  the  dining 
room  corner.  Things  had  not  been  as  bad  as  this  be 
fore  to-night,  for  Martha  was  a  human  being,  and  she 
was  fond  of  her.  Martha  was  as  near  to  her  as  any 
body,  really,  for  Martha  had  been  in  her  mother's  em 
ploy  in  one  capacity  or  another  ever  since  Eleanor  was 
a  little  girl.  Now  she  felt  hurt,  annoyed,  unfairly 
treated  and  all  sorts  of  miserable  things.  Martha 
never  had  acted  like  this  at  home. 

She  was  rather  aggressive  as  she  put  the  tray  with 
the  coffee  things  down  before  her  mistress.  She  did 
not  slam  the  tray  down,  exactly,  but  revolt  fairly  stuck 
out  all  over  her,  and  Eleanor  quietly  thanked  the-Pow- 
ers-that-be  when  she  left  her  alone,  and  she  at  least 
could  stare  at  the  three  big  pieces  of  highly  polished 
silver,  in  peace.  She  turned  once  to  make  sure  Mar 
tha  was  gone,  and  then  she  spoke  in  a  wee,  wee  voice. 
"  Good  evening,  my  three  musketeers !  "  she  said. 

But  the  coffee-pot,  the  sugar-bowl  and  the  cream- 
pitcher  had  no  more  to  say  than  Martha  had,  so  she 
rose  and  got  a  silver  box  of  cigarettes  and  a  bowl  of 
matches,  which  she  placed  beside  her  coffee  cup. 
"  Now,"  she  remarked,  under  her  breath,  lest  Martha 
should  catch  a  sound  and  think  her  insane,  "  I  feel  very 
desperate,  and  I  think  I  shall  smoke;  for  once  I  knew 
somebody  who  always  insisted  that  it  made  no  differ 
ence  where  one  lived,  if  one  had  a  cigarette.  It  is 
shocking,  I  know;  but  none  of  us  is  as  nearly  perfect  as 
the  world  thinks.  Take  you,  for  instance,  my  dear 
Loaf  Sugar.  The  very  people  who  would  shrink  from 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        103 

me  if  they  knew  me  to  be  about  to  smoke  a  cigarette, 
suppose  you  to  be  descended  from  the  Cane  family.  I 
don't  wish  to  wound  your  feelings,  but  your  antecedents 
were  —  Beets!  " 

For  a  while  after  this,  it  was  a  silent  gathering,  then 
a  log  sputtered  in  the  fireplace,  and  some  way  or  other 
the  wind  had  managed  to  add  a  sob  now  and  then  to  its 
terrific  blustering.  Eleanor  watched  the  coiled  smoke 
rise  from  her  cigarette.  She  was  hardly  thinking  — 
she  was  dreaming,  and  vaguely  struggling  not  to  think. 
Of  what  use  was  it  to  think?  By  no  possible  chance 
did  one  ever  think  out  accurately  the  other  person's 
reasoning  on  a  matter  of  mutual  concern.  Women, 
Eleanor  assured  herself,  as  she  watched  the  smoke 
rings  broaden  and  thin  themselves  out,  women  had  a 
trick  of  making  out  a  case  as  they  wished  it  to  stand, 
then  they  did  up  all  the  thinking  of  the  various  persons 
involved,  so  that  it  would  prove  the  case  to  be  exactly 
as  they  decided  it  should  be  —  in  the  first  place.  Later 
on,  women  always  found  that  the  other  actors  had  been 
thinking  in  very  different  grooves  from  her  own  — • 
therefore,  even  a  piece  of  sugar  descended  from  a  com 
mon  beet  could  see  that  to  think  was  a  waste  of  time. 

She  appealed  to  the  silver  again.  "  Quite  breezy 
this  evening,  isn't  it?  "  she  ventured. 

As  one  listening  for  an  answer,  attentively,  she  went 
on,  fancifully  deluding  herself  into  supposing  she  was 
less  alone  than  if  she  were  silent,  "  Feels  like  snow, 
too!" 

Again  she  watched  the  delicate  coil  of  smoke  from 
her  smouldering  cigarette,  as  it  wound  its  way  upward 
from  her  fingers  to  the  low  ceiling  of  the  room. 


io4       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

" Evanston,"  she  reflected.  "  Funny!  They  all  pro 
nounce  my  name  as  if  it  were  that  town  north  of  Chi 
cago.  I  wonder  if  clipping  things  off  this  way  is 
a  local  custom,  or  if  they  say  Evanston  because  the 
stupid  night  clerk  at  the  hotel  wrote  it  that  way  on  the 
register?  Ah!  A  fine  mystery!  And  would  it  be 
best  gently  to  correct  the  people,  or  let  them  spell  and 
pronounce  the  English  language  as  best  suits  their  own 
ideas?" 

The  humour  of  the  situation  struck  the  lady.  It 
was,  surely,  a  soul  in  need  of  companionship  that  could 
imagine  itself  amused  in  a  great  big  room  at  dinner 
alone,  a  room  on  the  top  of  a  hill  in  a  house  that  com 
plained  and  creaked  and  almost  threatened  to  blow 
over  in  the  wind  —  and  for  playmates,  only  a  middle- 
aged,  sour-tempered,  self-centred  person  who  would 
not  speak,  and  —  three  big  pieces  of  silver.  But 
Eleanor  smiled  to  herself  showing  her  nice,  strong 
teeth,  framed  by  her  very  red  lips,  and  with  her  partly 
closed  eyes  she  luxuriously  watched  the  cigarette  smoke 
reach  its  destiny.  It  was  all  so  bad  —  her  isolation  of 
spirit  and  position,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  —  that  it  was 
humorous.  There  was  no  other  attitude  to  take. 
When  people  live  their  lives  out  so  that  they  find  them 
selves  at  last  without  relatives,  with  acquaintances 
where  there  should  be  friends,  with  only  confusion 
where  there  should  be  simple  happiness  —  and  all  this 
off  somewhere  in  some  God-forsaken  country  on  the  top 
of  a  hill  in  the  wind  —  why  —  the  only  way  to  be  a 
trustworthy  guardian  for  one's  own  life,  is  to  smile ! 

But  Eleanor's  mood  was  interrupted  by  a  mean  little 
draught  that  hit  her  shoulders  from  a  window  just  back 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        105 

of  her  chair.  She  recalled  herself  enough  to  rise  and 
see  if  it  were  tightly  closed,  for  the  wind  had  evidently 
shifted  to  this  side  of  the  house.  She  parted  the  mus 
lin  curtains  and  looked  out  —  but  she  fell  back  again 
with  a  scream. 

A  man's  face  was  held  close  to  the  glass  on  the  out 
side,  a  flushed  face  with  blood-shot  eyes  that  did  not 
focus  properly,  and  a  malicious  grin.  His  two  large 
hands  on  the  window  pane  looked  about  to  burst  right 
through  the  glass.  "  Boo !  "  he  shouted  above  the 
storm.  "It's  the  bogey-man  —  run!"  He  laughed 
noisily  —  and  that  was  the  last  of  him. 

Eleanor  was  positively  faint  when  Martha  reached 
her  side  and  offered  to  assist  her  to  the  divan.  "  It's 
nothing,  Martha !  "  she  quickly  explained,  although  her 
manner  could  hardly  have  been  said  to  be  convincing. 
"  I  sometimes  feel  a  sharp  pain  in  my  heart  —  it's  indi 
gestion,  probably.  I  am  sorry  to  have  alarmed  you. 
It's  a  horrid  night,  isn't  it,  but  they  say  bad  weather 
never  stays  long  here.  We  must  get  to  bed  early,  and 
forget  all  about  it,  mustn't  we?  " 

And  Martha  was  satisfied  and  left  her  among  the 
cushions  on  the  divan,  while  she  cleared  away  the  coffee 
things.  Eleanor  gave  thanks  that  she  had  been  quick 
witted  enough  to  be  misleading — for  well  did  she 
know  that  if  ever  Martha  got  a  look  at  that  mad  face 
on  a  windy  night,  her  contract  and  former  devotion  to 
her,  would  not  hold  the  maid  at  her  post  long  enough 
to  get  her  hat. 

Martha  was  stiff,  oldish  and  of  many  opinions,  most 
of  which  were  absolute.  She  had  no  use  for  "  persons 
under  the  influence  of  intoxicating  liquors,"  and  any- 


io6       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

way,  she  had  not  made  any  contract  to  put  up  with 
spooks  as  well  as  desolation.  And  while  Martha  was 
not  much  comfort  to  her  mistress  —  socially  —  she  at 
least  could  hear,  even  if  she  would  not  talk,  and  it  was 
not  so  awful  as  being  quite  alone  on  Copper  Hill.  No 
matter  what  the  lady  herself  had  to  endure,  Martha 
must  be  protected.  And  Martha  was  protected. 
Eleanor  went  to  each  window  and  pulled  down  the 
shade,  resolving  never  again  to  overlook  this  matter. 
Then  she  dropped  on  to  the  couch,  worn  out  and  nerv 
ous. 

In  fifteen  minutes  Martha  re-entered  the  big  room, 
with  a  sort  of  veiled  suspicion  added  to  her  other  ill 
feelings.  She  announced,  curtly,  that  "  a  person  was 
out  there  and  wanted  to  know  if  he  was  in  the  house." 
Then  she  volunteered  the  information  that  she  had 
slammed  the  kitchen  door  in  the  intruder's  face  and 
bolted  it. 

"  Martha !  "  gasped  Eleanor.  "  How  could  you 
treat  anybody  so  on  such  a  night  as  this?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  have  liked  the  looks  of  her  any  better 
on  any  other  kind  of  a  night,"  Martha  retorted,  in  an 
unchristian  spirit. 

"  Whom  does  she  mean  by  he?  "  next  questioned  the 
lady. 

"  I  thought  maybe  you  would  know,"  Martha  ven 
tured,  in  a  manner  that  implied  —  well,  one  hardly 
knew  what  it  really  did  imply,  but  it  made  her  mistress 
uncomfortable  and  impressed  her  as  being  impertinent. 

With  a  shrug  of  annoyance,  Eleanor  walked  out  to 
the  kitchen  door  and  fearlessly  threw  it  open,  herself, 
to  see  standing  before  her  a  frail-looking  young  woman, 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        107 

showily  but  not  warmly  dressed  —  shivering  in  the  pen 
etrating  wind. 

"  I  am  sorry  my  maid  has  treated  you  uncivilly,"  she 
said.  "  Won't  you  come  in  out  of  the  cold?  " 

The  young  woman  obeyed,  awkwardly,  seeming  to 
be  taken  aback  by  ordinary  politeness,  when  rudeness 
would  not  have  disturbed  her  in  the  least. 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me?  "  she  said,  earnestly. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  Eleanor.  "  Have 
you  lost  your  way  in  the  storm?  The  sand  that  fills 
the  air  is  blinding.  Won't  you  come  into  the  sitting 
room  and  get  warm?  " 

The  young  woman  hesitated,  uneasily.  "  Maybe 
you  wouldn't  want  me?  "  she  murmured. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  the  hostess  pleasantly  assured 
her,  "  I  am  particularly  glad  of  a  caller  this  evening.  I 
am  sometimes  very  lonely." 

"  The  same  here,"  calmly  replied  the  girl,  with  a 
depth  of  feeling  that  stripped  the  words  of  their 
slanginess.  And  slightly  dazed,  she  followed  Eleanor 
into  the  big  room  and  up  to  the  fire. 

"  Sit  down,"  gently  suggested  the  lady,  noting  that 
the  girl  made  no  motion  to  do  so. 

"Maybe  you  wouldn't  want  me  to?"  again  re 
marked  the  serious  voice.  "  I  just  knocked  at  the  back 
door  to  see  if  he  came  in  here." 

"He?" 

"  I  saw  him  peeking  in  at  your  windows.  I  have 
followed  him  all  the  way  over  from  town.  He's 
worse  than  usual  to-night,  and  I  was  afraid  he  might 
fall  into  some  of  these  open  prospect  holes  around  here 
and  get  into  trouble.  I  am  trying  to  get  him  home." 


io8       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

The  girl  stopped  for  breath  and  sank  onto  the  divan, 
her  gaze  on  her  feet. 

"Home?"  Eleanor  echoed.  "  Is  he  your  hus 
band  ?" 

The  young  woman  fumbled  with  her  shabby  bag, 
and  then  replied  with  painful  hesitation,  "  He's  —  a  — 
he's  more  of  a  worry  to  me  than  anything  else,  I  guess." 

u  You  —  love  him,  perhaps?"  very,  very  gently 
asked  the  lady. 

"  What's  that  to  you?  "  sharply  demanded  the  girl, 
to  Eleanor's  great  surprise,  rising  and  holding  her  head 
back  with  pride. 

"  It  is  nothing  to  me,  I  assure  you,"  Eleanor  an 
swered  her,  without  resentment.  "  I  only  ask,  because 
it  occurs  to  me  I  might  be  of  some  service  to  you." 

The  girl  was  over- wrought,  it  was  evident.  In  fact, 
she  gave  the  impression  of  one  who  was  up  from  an 
illness  and  in  a  bad  state  of  nerves.  She  looked  her 
hostess  straight  in  the  eye,  and  daringly  demanded, 
"  I'd  like  to  ask  you  what  he  is  dangling  around  this 
hill  all  the  time  for?" 

Eleanor  now  rose  in  some  heat.  "  Now,  my  dear 
young  woman,"  she  began  deliberately,  "  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  this  man,  whoever  he  may  be,  is  a 
great  annoyance  to  me.  If  he  is  yours  —  take  him !  I 
shall  esteem  it  a  favour  if  you  will  kindly  keep  him  away 
from  Copper  Hill,  where  he  is  most  unwelcome.  He 
has  never  been  in  my  house,  and  he  never  will  be  —  if 
that  is  any  comfort  to  you." 

The  disturbed,  desperate  girl  leaped  forward  with 
an  unlooked-for  strength,  and  put  her  thin,  disagree 
able  hands  on  Eleanor's  shoulders.  She  stared  down 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        109 

into  the  shorter  woman's  eyes,  and  almost  hissed  in  her 
anger,  "  You  are  lying  to  me !  That  man  is  here  in 
this  very  room  —  I  saw  him  carefully  try  the  porch 
door,  and  then  disappear.  He  came  inside  —  of 
course  he  did !  Now  what  have  you  to  say  for  your 
self  —  you  who  are  supposed  to  be  so  much  more  than 
some  of  the  rest  of  us  —  say  —  tell  me,  will  you  ?  " 

Eleanor  wrenched  herself  loose,  and  found  herself  in 
a  fury  of  indignation.  "See  here!"  she  stormed. 
"Just  wait  a  moment!  Examine  this  room.  Stand 
ing  back  to  the  fireplace,  you  see  on  our  left  is  the 
door  leading  to  the  porch  ?  Now,  on  our  right  is  the 
street  entrance,  with  a  little  built-out  vestibule.  Back 
of  this  room  are  two  bed  rooms,  a  bath  and  the  kitchen. 
You  see?  I  am  not  trying  to  make  an  architect  of  you 
—  I  am  only  trying  to  keep  you  from  making  an  exhibi 
tion  of  yourself.  I  want  you  to  see  how  insane  it  is 
of  you  to  think  this  man  is  in  my  house."  Eleanor 
stopped  a  second  to  get  a  new  breath  and  to  control  her 
irritation. 

"  Please  listen  to  me!  "  she  hurried  on.  "  I  came 
home  two  hours  ago  —  right  in  the  front  door  with  a 
pass-key.  I  took  off  my  hat  and  coat  and  built  a  fire. 
My  things  are  still  on  that  chair  over  there,  you  will 
notice.  I  have  not  been  one  step  outside  of  this  room 
since  I  came  into  it.  I  dined  over  at  that  round  table, 
right  where  I  could  see  the  front  entrance,  and  the 
porch  door  perfectly.  Nobody  has  entered  either  one 
of  these  doors,  and,  in  fact,  I  think  you  will  find  the 
porch  door  bolted  and  the  front  door  held  by  a  Yale 
lock,  which  I  never  allow  thrown  off  the  catch.  About 
half  an  hour  ago,  I  saw  a  man's  face  at  the  window 


i  TO       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

back  of  the  dining  table,  and  it  frightened  me  dread 
fully.  You  may  have  seen  this  man  try  the  porch  door, 
but  you  did  not  see  him  enter  it.  Now  are  you  ready  to 
apologise  to  me?  " 

The  girl  laughed  a  nasty,  unbelieving  laugh,  and 
sneered,  "  Say,  that  is  a  real  cute  speech  of  yours  all 
right,  but  I  am  not  near  so  green  as  I  look.  Where 
have  you  got  him  hid,  is  what  I  want  to  know?  " 

Eleanor  was  so  enraged  at  the  persistent  insults  of 
this  extraordinary  woman,  that  she  almost  staggered  in 
her  effort  not  to  call  out  to  her  to  leave  her  house  in 
stantly.  But  she  mastered  herself  enough  to  remem 
ber  that  she,  as  the  one  who  had  had  the  better  ad 
vantages  of  the  two,  ought  to  fight  things  out  to  an 
understanding,  patiently. 

"Well!"  she  managed  to  articulate,  with  infinite 
coldness,  "  I  think  we  have  talked  about  enough,  Miss 
—  Mrs.  a-a  —  you  didn't  give  me  your  name.  May  I 
ask  it?" 

"  Corey,"  the  girl  told  her.     "  Emily  Corey." 

"  Very  well,  Miss  Corey,  we  will  — " 

"  Just  Emily  will  do,"  ventured  the  girl,  consider 
ably  quieted,  and  as  though  she  offered  some  crude  sort 
of  apology  in  her  suggestion. 

"  Very  well,  then  Emily  Corey,"  Eleanor  said 
sharply,  "  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  go  over  this  bunga 
low  with  me?  And  first,  may  I  ask  you  to  examine 
both  of  the  outside  doors  of  this  room?  " 

The  girl  looked  wretched.  Apparently  it  was  be 
ginning  to  dawn  upon  her  that  she  had  gone  much  too 
far,  and  that  possibly  she  was  mistaken,  after  all.  The 
wind  was  high  and  full  of  dirt  and  cutting  snow,  or 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        in 

really  little  ice  flakes;  besides,  it  was  dark.  Something 
might  have  tricked  her  sight.  She  knew  beyond  all 
doubt  in  her  own  mind,  that  the  man  was  at  the  door, 
and  that  when  she  turned  the  corner  of  the  house,  he 
disappeared.  But  was  she  so  sure  his  flight  was  ended 
in  the  house  ?  She  stood  still. 

"  Try  the  doors,  please !  " 

"  I  guess  I  don't  need  to,"  the  girl  replied,  doggedly. 
"  Maybe  I  didn't  see  straight." 

"  You  cannot  come  into  my  house  and  insult  me,  and 
be  permitted  to  leave  without  an  apology  founded  upon 
absolute  satisfaction,"  Eleanor  coldly  and  grandly  in 
formed  the  girl.  "  I  said  —  try  the  doors !  " 

Heavily,  the  tired  girl  forced  herself  to  obey.  The 
doors  were  both  locked,  and  all  of  the  little,  square 
windows  proved  themselves  to  be  securely  fastened, 
also. 

Then  Eleanor  stepped  to  the  pantry  door  and  called 
Martha,  telling  her  she  wished  her  to  join  them  in  go 
ing  over  the  entire  house,  first  bolting  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I'd  a-stayed  out  there  all  this  time, 
without  its  being  barred?  No,  indeed,  Mrs.  Evan  — 
no,  indeed !  "  As  everything  was  going  wrong  anyway, 
Martha  added  to  the  general  discomfort  by  being  im 
pudent. 

Eleanor  thought  it  a  poor  time  to  notice  the  signs  of 
revolt  in  the  maid,  so  she  ignored  her  bearing  and  in 
flections,  and  said,  firmly,  "  The  three  of  us  are  going 
over  the  back  part  of  the  house  together." 

"  Not  my  room !  "  snapped  Martha,  sulkily. 

"Why  not  your  room?"  asked  her  mistress,  in  a 
tone  that  went  through  Martha  like  a  warning. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  Well,  madame,  it  isn't  in  order,  and  I  never  like 
company  there,  anyway.  I  cleaned  this  morning,  but  I 
didn't  get  the  dusting  done,  because  I  had  to  make  cake 
all  afternoon.  I  don't  care  to  show  it  to  strangers, 
Mrs.  Evan,  please." 

"  I  am  sorry,  Martha,  but  we  shall  not  notice  the  dis 
order.  This  young  woman  thinks  her  friend  is  here, 
and  we  shall  have  to  show  her  she  is  mistaken." 

Martha  looked  like  a  thunder  clap,  and  showed 
plainly  that  if  they  entered  her  room,  it  would  not  be 
because  she  did  not  use  everything  in  her  power  to  pre 
vent  it. 

"  Now  Emily  Corey,"  Eleanor  said,  leading  the  way, 
"  this  is  my  room.  Will  you  please  examine  it?  You 
will  see  that  the  closet  is  so  small  it  would  hardly  hold 
a  full-sized  burglar.  The  little  brass  bed  has  a  flounce 
from  the  spring  to  the  floor  —  will  you  kindly  lift  it 
and  poke  an  umbrella  in,  Miss  Corey?  Get  the  long- 
handled  mop,  Martha  —  no  —  wait  a  moment!  Just 
take  down  the  reading  light  on  the  long  cord  and  look 
under,  Miss  Corey." 

"It  might  be  dusty  —  I'd  rather  she  wouldn't!" 
grumbled  the  maid,  who  would  have  regarded  herself 
disgraced  forever  if  it  had  been  dusty. 

There  was  no  man  in  this  room  —  even  a  jealous 
creature  like  Emily  Corey,  could  see  this  to  be  true. 

Eleanor  snapped  the  light  on  in  the  tiny  bath  room. 
One  glance  was  all  that  was  necessary  to  prove  the  same 
fact  here. 

Then  Eleanor  threw  open  Martha's  door  on  the  op 
posite  side  of  the  bath  room.  It  was  dark,  and  she 
asked  Martha  to  find  the  electric  light  fixture  —  she 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        113 

couldn't  remember  what  part  of  the  room  it  was  in. 

"  I  don't  believe  we  need  a  light,"  Martha  tried  to 
ward  it  off,  self-consciously,  "  it  looks  so  mussed  up." 

But  Eleanor,  being  in  no  mood  for  argument,  found 
the  light  herself  and  snapped  it  on  quickly. 

The  instant  the  light  went  up,  she  sprang  back  into 
the  bath  room,  with  a  half-uttered  exclamation  of 
fright.  Martha  gave  one  good  yell,  and  Miss  Emily 
Corey  complacently  leaned  against  the  dressing  table 
and  smiled  that  nasty  smile  she  had  smiled  once  before 
this  evening. 

Dead  to  the  world  in  a  heavy  drunken  sleep  —  right 
on  top  of  Martha's  hair  brush,  trinkets,  slippers  and 
her  enlarged  and  highly  tinted  photograph  of  her 
brother  William  —  lay  the  renegade !  And  upon  him 
blew  the  cutting  winter  wind  charged  with  sand  and  ice 
needles,  for  in  his  weariness,  he  had  quite  neglected  to 
pull  down  the  window  after  him  when  he  crawled  in, 
and  followed  his  natural  instinct  to  find  a  resting  place. 

"  Say,"  Miss  Corey  sneered  at  her  bewildered 
hostess,  "  what  have  you  got  to  say  now?  " 

Eleanor  evidently  had  nothing  to  say,  for  she  was 
little  short  of  stunned.  The  triumphant  girl  then 
whirled  upon  Martha,  now  trembling  as  if  on  the  verge 
of  hysterics.  "  Say,"  she  drawled  most  unpleas 
antly,  "you're  a  real  cute  old  maid,  ain't  you?  You 
didn't  know  he  was  here  at  all,  did  you?  Your  room 
didn't  look  fixed  up  enough  —  that's  why  you  didn't 
want  us  to  see  it  —  ha  !  ha !  Funny,  ain't  it  —  and  it 
just  goes  to  show  what  a  man  will  take  to,  if  he  stays 
drunk  long  enough !  " 

Martha   suddenly  renounced  the   approaching  hys- 


ii4       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

terics,  and  flew  into  a  dangerous  rage,  waving  her  hands 
about  in  wild  gestures  which  would  have  rivalled  an 
Indian  on  the  war-path.  "  See  here,  young  person!  " 
she  fairly  screamed  at  Emily  Corey,  "  you  will  please  to 
remember  to  who  you  are  speaking!  You  take  that 
snoring  bum's  muddy  feet  off  my  brother's  enlargement 
and  my  clean  aprons,  and  get  out  of  here!  If  you 
don't  want  a  kettle  of  hot  water  to  help  you,  you'd  bet 
ter  —  move  I  " 

It  finally  took  the  three  women  to  arouse  the  stupid, 
drunken  man,  and  get  him  started  down  the  hill,  with 
the  frail,  faithful,  sorrowful  Emily  Corey  doing  her 
best  to  keep  him  from  falling. 

"  I  want  you  to  come  back  to  see  me  another  time, 
Emily,"  Eleanor  said  to  her  forgivingly,  in  parting. 
"  I  want  to  talk  with  you.  Good  night." 

"  Thank  you,"  the  girl  sadly  responded.  u  I  am 
sorry  I  gave  you  so  much  trouble  and  lost  my  temper  so 
bad.  I  can't  help  it  —  I'm  all  nerves  lately.  And  I'm 
sort  of  crazy,  too,  I  guess.  Have  you  ever  felt  it  — 
that  kind  of  craziness  that  I've  got?  " 

"  Yes,  Emily,"  confessed  the  lady  rather  seriously. 
"  Good  luck  to  you !" 

An  hour  later  when  Eleanor  sat  in  a  fatigued  little 
heap  in  the  corner  of  the  divan,  pondering  upon  a  lot 
of  things  with  no  particular  gain  one  way  or  the  other, 
the  bell  at  her  desk  roused  her  to  an  appreciation  of  the 
time  and  of  how  very,  very  tired  she  was. 

"  Yes?  "  she  answered,  supposing  someone  had  rung 
her  number  by  mistake. 

"  This  is  Mrs.  St.  John,  Mrs.  Evanston,"  came  the 
nice  voice  of  her  new  friend.  "  I  just  happened  to 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        115 

think  of  you  on  my  way  to  bed,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
to  call  up  and  ask  if  you  were  keeping  warm.  It's  a 
villainous  night,  isn't  it,  yet  it  was  so  nice  this  after 
noon.  This  is  the  way  with  the  weather  out  here  — 
you  never  can  count  on  it  for  more  than  an  hour  at  a 
time.  I  hope  you  aren't  bored  to  death  up  there  alone  ? 
This  Camp  is  as  dead  as  an  ancient  Egyptian  —  noth 
ing  ever  happens  any  more.  But  you'll  grow  accus 
tomed  to  the  unvariable  level  of  the  life,  in  time." 

"  Yes?  "  asked  Eleanor,  smiling  to  herself  to  think 
of  the  "  level  "  of  things  on  Copper  Hill  this  evening. 
"  But  your  thoughtfulness  will  help  me  not  to  feel  too 
dreadfully  dull.  It  was  nice  of  you  to  think  of  me !  " 


CHAPTER  XI 

1\>TRS.  ST.  JOHN  and  Mrs.  Peters  sat  waiting  in 
•*•*•*•  the  bungalow  living  room  one  afternoon,  when 
Mrs.  Peters,  who  had  come  out  to  the  Camp  five  years 
before  as  the  bride  of  a  young  engineer,  sighed  and 
remarked,  "  Doesn't  it  make  you  homesick  to  see  a 
maid  offer  a  tray  properly  for  one's  cards  —  instead  of 
snatching  them  away  from  you  with  a  greasy  hand,  the 
way  all  of  ours  do  in  this  grassless,  graceless,  devil- 
may-care  place?  " 

"  This  '  devil-may-care  '  place  is  home  to  me,  you 
know,"  Mrs.  St.  John  replied,  a  little  hurt. 

But  Eleanor  came  in  just  here,  in  a  wonderfully 
smart  house-gown  of  pearl  grey,  which  interested  her 
callers  at  once.  It  was  not  more  expensive  than  their 
own  things,  but  it  was  so  vastly  different.  Their 
gowns  would  have  had  more  lace  and  ribbons.  Yet 
this  one  was  beautiful,  even  if  its  style  was  dependent 
entirely  upon  its  fabric  and  its  lines.  Its  charm,  like 
that  of  its  wearer,  was  not  placed  at  a  glance. 

Very  soon  it  was  revealed  that  besides  the  passing 
courtesy  of  a  call,  the  ladies  had  a  real  reason  for  com 
ing.  They  announced  they  were  trying  to  get  up  a 
Hallowe'en  party  at  the  country  club,  and  they  wanted 
to  know  if  their  hostess  would  not  help  them. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to,"  she  quickly  said,  "  but  you 
know,  I  don't  go  to  parties?  However,  I  can  make 
some  pumpkin  jack-o'-lanterns  and  potato  candle-sticks, 
if  this  is  what  you  mean?  " 

n6 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        117 

"  We  want  more  than  that,"  Mrs.  Peters  said,  "  we 
want  you  to  come  and  help  make  the  evening  a  success. 
It  is  so  hard  to  make  anything  go  off  well  here,  because 
the  men  all  act  so  like  the  old  Harry !  They  seem  to 
argue  that  holiday  times  are  the  most  appropriate  oc 
casions  for  the  indulgence  in  all  sorts  of  ill-humours. 
They  never  try  to  be  nicer  than  usual  —  they  just  flock 
together  and  drink  too  much  and  consider  themselves 
abused.  Every  man  prefers  his  own  mood  to  any 
one's  else  hospitality.  We  thought  if  we  could  get 
somebody  new,  perhaps  curiosity  would  get  the  men 
out,  even  if  principle  wouldn't." 

This  impressed  Eleanor  as  being  a  comic  idea. 
"  Men  have  never  flocked  to  balls  because  of  me,  yet," 
she  laughed. 

"  Well,  do  come  —  please  do !  "  pleaded  Mrs. 
Peters.  "  Everybody  is  anxious  to  know  you,  and  it 
will  be  such  a  good  time  to  meet  the  people  here." 

"  It  is  very  charming  of  you  to  put  it  that  way," 
Eleanor  said,  "  but  I  should  feel  queer  at  a  dance  —  I 
haven't  been  to  one  in  a  long  time,  and  you  know  the 
first  break  is  always  hard  to  make?  " 

The  two  callers  waited  for  their  hostess  to  say  more, 
not  knowing  quite  what  to  say,  themselves.  They  were 
full  of  curiosity,  naturally.  And  Mrs.  Peters,  always 
gossipy  and  small,  was  vaguely  conscious  of  a  budding 
suspicion  of  the  new  arrival  in  the  Camp. 

"  I  was  most  unfortunate  in  losing  my — "  Eleanor 
dropped  her  glance,  in  her  effort  not  to  appear  emo 
tional.  Yet  some  explanation  seemed  necessary  — 
she  must  say  something. 

And  here  the  guests  moved  to  the  edge  of  their 


ii8       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

chairs  and  caught  their  breaths  —  they  were  so  awfully 
afraid  she  might  change  her  mind,  and  not  tell  them  of 
losing  her  husband.  And  they  had  promised  them 
selves  to  get  this  out  of  her  to-day! 

It  was  an  awkward  moment,  for  Eleanor  was  strug 
gling  to  tell  them,  without  being  depressing  and  spoil 
ing  their  call,  and  she  was  progressing  very  slowly. 
The  ladies  were  helpless  in  hurrying  her,  and  the  ten 
sion  of  the  conversation  was  too  tight  to  be  comfortable 
for  any  of  them. 

With  moist  eyes,  Eleanor  looked  up  courageously, 
as  if  trying  to  speak  of  the  sorrows  of  the  world,  and 
not  her  own  trials  alone.  "  I  —  ought  to  tell  you,  I 
suppose ?"  she  began.  "I  am  still  in  mourning,  al 
though  I  try  to  get  away  from  dead  black,  as  you  see. 
About  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  I  lost  — " 

Both  visitors  eagerly  leaned  farther  forward,  and 
waited,  in  sympathetic  silence. 

Eleanor  cleared  her  throat  and  tried  once  more. 
"  You  remember  that  horrible  wreck  in  mid-ocean  about 
eighteen  months  ago,  when  two  great  liners  collided  in 
the  fog?" 

The  two  ladies  gulped  an  indefinite  reply  to  the  ef 
fect  that  they  did  recall  the  disaster. 

"  And  do  you  remember  reading  of  the  terrific  dif 
ficulties  they  had  in  getting  the  passengers  off  the  sink 
ing  ship,  aboard  the  safe  one?  " 

The  two  ladies  bowed  the'jr  heads,  indicating  they 
did. 

Eleanor  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  she  were  telling  the 
story  to  herself,  only,  and  went  on  with  great  effort, 
"These  tragedies  age  one,  don't  they?  Sometimes,  I 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        119 

live  over  again  all  the  horrible  excitement  and  brutal 
combat  of  those  maddened  people,  trying  to  live !  My 
doctor  tells  me  it  is  a  sin  to  allow  oneself  to  brood  upon 
morbid  memories,  but  still  I  do  believe  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  putting  too  much  stress  upon  human 
endurance." 

She  forced  herself  to  open  her  eyes,  and  she  reached 
for  the  tongs  to  readjust  the  logs  in  the  fireplace,  auto 
matically. 

The  callers  felt  a  shade  sorry  they  had  been  curious 
about  their  new  neighbour,  and  more  than  a  shade 
ashamed  they  had  promised  the  people  with  whom  they 
dined  last  evening,  to  find  out  (or  die!),  first-hand,  to 
day,  "  whether  Mrs.  Evanston  was  a  widow  or  a  di 
vorcee."  Their  own  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  had 
they  known  their  hostess  better  they  would  have  put  a 
kind  hand  on  her  shoulder,  or  something  like  that.  As 
it  was  —  they  both  wished  to  goodness  that  they  had 
asked  her  to  come  to  the  party  —  by  note. 

Taking  a  deep  breath,  and  sitting  up  straight,  as  if 
to  gain  strength  and  speed  with  which  to  finish  her  sad 
little  recital,  Eleanor  went  on,  "  You  see,  it  happened 
this  way:  I  was  ordered  into  one  life-boat,  and  they 
were  ordered  into  another." 

"  They?"  both  visitors  thought  at  once.  "Heav 
ens  !  Had  she  a  child,  too  ?  " 

"  As  I  say,"  Eleanor  forced  herself  to  continue,  al 
though  it  did  seem  as  though  she  might  fail  to  finish, 
because  of  choking  tears,  "  the  steamer  we  were  flee 
ing  from,  suddenly  settled  deeper  with  a  lurch  that 
caused  an  extra  disturbance  in  the  heavy  waters  —  and 
it  capsized  their  boat  as  it  was  leaving  the  wreck.  Some 


120       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

of  the  people  were  saved,  but  they  couldn't  swim.  I 
lost  them  both  —  my  father  and  my  mother." 

Mrs.  St.  John  quickly  went  to  the  sorrowful  woman 
before  the  fire,  and  drew  her  to  her.  She  had  no  words 
to  offer.  Neither  had  Mrs.  Peters,  who  wiped  her  eyes 
and  fumbled  for  something  comforting  to  say,  in  vain. 

Eleanor,  herself,  relieved  the  situation.  "  I  was  ill 
a  long  time  after  this,"  she  went  on.  "  And  as  I  never 
seemed  to  get  over  the  shock,  my  New  York  physician 
advised  my  coming  out  here  to  Montana,  where  every 
thing  would  be  quite  new  to  me,  and  where  I  should 
have  to  rely  upon  myself  more  —  hoping  I  should  grow 
strong." 

"  We'll  help  you  to  get  strong!  "  volunteered  Mrs. 
Peters,  in  a  voice  that  threatened  to  break. 

"  Indeed,  we  will!"  echoed  Mrs.  St.  John  whole 
heartedly,  and  with  fair  self-control,  for  Martha  was 
entering  the  room  with  the  tea  tray,  which  helped  them 
all  to  get  back  to  the  surface  of  life. 

"  Perhaps,"  Mrs.  St.  John  made  so  bold  as  to  sug 
gest,  "  some  spirit  told  us  you  needed  to  be  got  out  of 
yourself,  and  that  is  why  we  came  to  try  to  get  you  to 
come  to  our  little  party." 

This  tactful  suggestion  carried  weight,  and  Mrs.  St. 
John  gathered  courage  to  go  on  from  this  conviction. 
"  Now  you  see,  dear  Mrs.  Evanston,"  she  said,  "  it 
never  did  anybody  in  the  world  any  good  to  stay  always 
at  home  and  cling  to  black  clothes.  The  more  one 
wears  them,  the  less  inclination  she  has  to  take  them 
off.  Possibly  the  very  thing  that  would  best  please 
those  whom  you  loved,  would  be  for  you  to  find  among 
your  things  some  little  white  gown,  and  join  us  in  our 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        121 

childish  celebration  at  the  country  club.     It  would  be 
what  would  please  me  most,  if  I  had  been  —  she." 

"  I  know  you  are  right,"  sighed  Eleanor,  through 
her  tears.     "  I  will  go  to  your  party,   if  you  really 


want  me." 


"  Good!  "  said  both  callers  at  once. 

And  gradually  and  cleverly,  they  turned  the  tide  of 
their  talk  back  to  the  commonplace  things  of  every-day 
concern.  They  stayed  another  half  hour,  helping  their 
hostess  to  get  away  from  her  awful  memories,  and  they 
enjoyed  the  tea,  and  made  plans  for  the  coming  dance. 
But  even  so  —  they  were  glad  enough  of  the  bracing, 
cold  air  outside,  when  at  last  they  started  down  the  hill. 

Mrs.  Peters  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  Henrietta," 
she  announced,  with  the  strongest  good  resolutions  mak 
ing  themselves  felt  in  her  voice  and  manner,  "  this  ex 
perience  is  going  to  do  me  for  some  time  to  come !  If 
you  ever  catch  me  taking  a  deep  breath  and  diving  into 
the  depths  of  anybody's  life  again  —  you'll  know  it! 
I  feel  like  a  very  poor  detective  who  really  preferred 
being  a  deaconess,  in  the  first  place.  In  fact,  I  don't 
quite  know  how  I  do  feel,  exactly.  But  I  regard  it  ab 
solutely  none  of  my  business  whether  her  husband  is 
living  —  or  dead.  You  understand?" 

"  That's  the  best  way  to  feel  about  failures,  al 
ways,"  cheerfully  remarked  Henrietta  St.  John,  smil 
ing,  as  she  thought  of  the  way  they  had  found  out  what 
they  wished  to  know  of  their  new  acquaintance.  "  I 
am  trying  to  feel  very  much  above  our  mission,  my 
self.  It's  all  Dr.  Marsden's  fault,  our  ever  prying, 
anyway.  I  am  glad  to  remember  that  the  idea  did  not 
strike  Barton  as  being  attractive," 


122       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  If  you  don't  stop  idealising  that  effervescing  boy, 
Henrietta,  you'll  have  him  a  real  hero,  yet,"  her  friend 
retorted,  teasingly.  "  But  what  do  you  suppose  hap 
pened  to  —  to  Mr.  Evanston?  " 

Mrs.  St.  John  ignored  this,  and  remarked,  u  She  is 
a  dear  sort  of  woman,  isn't  she?  " 

"  Yes  —  and  we  must  do  all  we  can  for  her.  But 
whatever  became  of  him,  I  wonder?  " 

"  Well,  Gertrude,  dear,"  sweetly  suggested  Mrs.  St. 
John,  "  you  certainly  have  the  Camp's  permission  to 
find  out,  if  you  like !  " 


CHAPTER  XII 

ELEANOR  had  been  unable  to  leave  the  house  since 
she  had  permitted  herself  to  dwell  upon  her  grief. 
The  long  hours  of  weeping,  which  she  had  cleverly 
avoided  for  some  time,  were  no  longer  to  be  shirked. 
The  retrospection  had  almost  put  her  down  in  bed,  ill. 
But  she  was  not  unmindful  of  her  promise  to  Mrs.  St. 
John  and  Mrs.  Peters  to  help  them  get  ready  for  the 
Hallowe'en  party.  She  had  Martha  make  a  lot  of  good 
things  to  eat,  and  take  them  down  to  the  club  house  in 
a  huge  basket  with  a  lot  of  big  red  apples  with  strings 
tied  on  them,  ready  to  hang  up  for  the  "  bobbing." 

And  it  was  a  busy  scene  indeed  that  Martha  beheld 
upon  her  arrival  at  the  bleak,  big  shell  of  a  house  on 
the  sandy  Flat.  Mrs.  St.  John  was  straining  every 
nerve  on  the  afternoon  of  the  party,  on  the  top  round 
of  a  very  high  ladder,  putting  a  yellow  crepe  paper  over 
the  glaring  electric  light  that  sputtered  in  the  centre  of 
the  ceiling.  "  Girls,"  she  called  down  from  her  peri 
lous  position,  "  one  of  you  take  care  of  those  things 
Mrs.  Evanston  sent  down,  and  give  the  basket  back  to 
the  maid,  will  you?  I  think  the  dance  this  year  will 
be  lots  less  deadly  than  it  usually  is,  don't  you  ?  We've 
been  out  lobbying  to  get  the  men  to  promise  to  come; 
and  most  of  them,  including  those  who  hate  dances, 
have  given  their  words-of-honour  to  appear  —  even 
Mr.  Stone." 

"Who  told  you  that,  Henrietta?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Peters,  who  always  spent  a  fair  proportion  of  her  time, 

123 


i24       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

trying  to  induce  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  to  be  "  among 
those  present  " —  with  the  result  that  if  she  would  not 
accept  his  regrets  when  he  wanted  her  to,  she  had  a  box 
of  flowers  before  leaving  home  —  and  a  vacant  seat 
after  she  got  her  party  to  the  theatre.  "  Henrietta," 
she  called  up  again,  "  who  told  you  Mr.  Stone  was  com 
ing,  I  say?" 

"  He  did,"  replied  Mrs.  St.  John,  almost  losing  her 
balance. 

;t  Where  in  kingdom-come  did  you  see  him,  Henri 
etta?  "  questioned  Mrs.  Cuthbert,  losing  all  interest  in 
the  paper  bow  she  was  making.  Mrs.  Cuthbert  herself 
was  always  harbouring  hopes  of  getting  Mr.  Stone  to 
sing  at  one  of  the  benefits  for  the  Home  for  Disabled 
Miners.  So  far  she  had  not  met  with  overwhelming 
success  in  this  regard,  but  once  she  did  get  a  check  for 
three  hundred  dollars. 

"  I  didn't  see  him,"  called  back  Mrs.  St.  John.  "  I 
telephoned  him,  and  he  promised  to  come  without  fail 
if  he  could  possibly  arrange  it." 

"  That  sounds  familiar,  Henrietta,"  calmly  com 
mented  Miss  Stella  Montgomery,  who  stood  on  a  chair, 
tying  up  the  side  bulbs  in  yellow  paper. 

"  Stella !  "  Mrs.  St.  John  called  down,  impatiently, 
gathering  up  her  skirts  preparatory  to  descending  the 
ladder,  "  youVe  just  got  to  stop  being  so  cynical.  The 
first  thing  you  know,  you  are  going  to  be  an  old  maid." 

"  It's  all  right  about  the  old  maid  business,  Henri 
etta,"  the  girl  replied.  "  That's  already  upon  me. 
But  if  you  have  five  dollars  you  can  afford  to  lose,  I 
should  like  to  wager  you  that  nobody  sees  a  glimpse  of 
Thorny  Stone  at  this  barn  dance  of  yours  to-night." 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        125 

"  Stella,  I  wish  you  would  stop  calling  this  club  house 
a  *  barn.'  We've  had  lots  of  good  times  here,  even  if 
the  directors  do  feel  that  they  can't  afford  to  buy  good 
whisky  and  plaster  too,"  snapped  Mrs.  Peters.  "  You 
know  perfectly  well,  that  every  cent  they  can  save 
on  the  running  expenses  goes  into  keeping  the  chim 
neys  on.  The  way  the  wind  catches  this  place  is  a 
fright." 

Miss  Montgomery  ignored  this  reproof  and  called 
up  to  Mrs.  St.  John,  "  What  about  that  wager,  Hen 
rietta?" 

"  WTell,"  said  Mrs.  St.  John,  hanging  onto  the  lad 
der  half-way  down,  as  it  wasn't  safe  to  come  down  and 
talk  at  the  same  time,  and  it  was  more  important  to 
talk,  "  I  know  he  is  coming,  Stella.  It  wouldn't  be 
fair  to  make  a  wager  on  a  certainty.  T  told  him  we 
were  to  have  the  new  widow  here  —  oh !  by  the  way, 
has  her  maid  gone?" 

"  Yes,  long  ago.     Go  on !  "  somebody  answered. 

"  Well,  I  told  him  she  was  coming,  and  he  just 
bristled  with  interest  and  asked  me  a  dozen  questions. 
He  wanted  to  know  how  the  high  altitude  affected  her; 
if  she  were  gaining  in  health;  if  she  had  a  chaperone; 
was  it  true  that  Dr.  Marsden  was  making  a  set  for  her; 
and  were  the  women  nice  to  her?  Oh,  he  wanted 
to  know  a  lot  of  things !  And  he  will  be  here,  never 
fear.  So,  if  you  wish,  I  will  take  that  wager  of  yours, 
Stella.  It's  too  bad,  though,  for  you  need  that  money, 
yourself." 

"Agreed!"  said  Stella.  "  But  what  does  Cra- 
thorne  Stone  know  of  Mrs.  Evanston's  having  been 
ill?"  And  Stella  only  showed  in  the  contraction  of 


i26       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

her  eyes  that  this  was  of  any  particular  interest  to  her 
—  and  her  eyes  she  let  no  one  see. 

"  I  wondered,  myself,"  replied  Mrs.  St.  John,  reach 
ing  the  floor  safely,  at  last.  "  I  suppose,  though, 
everybody  knows  everything  in  a  place  this  size  — 
that's  the  natural  explanation,  of  course." 

At  last  with  all  the  chat  and  the  constant  work  of 
active  fingers,  the  gaunt,  cheerless,  unfinished  hall, 
looked  as  though  somebody  had  tried  to  make  it  seem 
"  cosy "  anyway.  The  effect  of  the  decorations 
showed  the  right  spirit,  even  if  ten  rolls  of  yellow  and 
green  paper  did  not  make  enough  spots  of  colour  to 
show  the  golfers  just  what  was  the  matter  with  the 
room.  And  the  women  gathered  up  their  gloves  and 
furs  and  things,  and  all  fell  upon  the  China-boy  at  once 
with  a  fine,  large  assortment  of  conflicting  orders;  and 
then  in  a  body  they  took  the  shabby,  yellow,  bouncing 
car  up  town,  to  get  a  little  rest  before  the  evening. 

The  night  came,  clear  and  cold. 

The  China-boy  remembered  enough  of  the  instruc 
tions  hurled  at  him,  to  have  a  great,  roaring  fire  of 
logs;  and  at  eight-forty-five,  he  lighted  all  the  candles 
in  the  potatoes  that  roosted  uncertainly  on  the  various 
ledges  along  the  unplastered  walls,  and  turned  on  the 
electric  lights  which  gave  the  effect  of  being  slowly 
smothered  to  death  under  the  bandages  of  crepe  paper, 
although  they  were  supposed  to  look  like  the  live,  yel 
low  centres  of  modern  art-flowers. 

"All  blosh!"  grunted  the  China-boy,  thinking  of 
the  job  of  taking  the  trash  down,  "  this  stlike  me  all- 
samey  damfoolishness!  " 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        127 

The  orchestra  arrived  first,  the  men  thawing  out 
their  fingers,  and  tuning  up  at  once. 

The  next  car  brought  Mrs.  St.  John  and  two  pump 
kin  lanterns;  Mrs.  Cuthbert  and  a  large  basket  of  pies; 
and  Mrs.  Peters  and  several  boxes  of  favours  and  fancy 
paper  caps  done  up  in  dressy  fire-crackers.  These 
ladies  all  had  husbands,  but  they  did  not  always  know 
where  they  were.  They  knew  where  they  were  not, 
of  course  —  and  that  was  where  they  were  wanted. 
However,  this  evening  they  would  appear  later.  They 
had  always  appeared  later,  ever  since  anyone  could 
remember. 

The  third  car  brought  a  lot  of  merry-makers,  among 
whom  there  was  a  rogue  who  whispered  to  first  one 
and  then  another  of  the  young  people,  after  they  had 
removed  their  things  and  shaken  hands  formally  with 
the  Mesdames  St.  John,  Cuthbert  and  Peters.  Then 
he  spoke  in  low  tones  with  the  orchestra  leader. 

And  the  result  of  all  this  murmured  conference  was 
that  when  the  rumbling  of  the  next  car  was  heard,  all 
of  these  youngsters,  men  and  girls  both,  rushed  and 
stood  beside  the  receiving  party  refusing  to  be  dis 
persed,  and  utterly  ignoring  the  protests  that  the  ladies 
would  not  stand  for  any  such  jokes  as  this. 

When  the  outside  door  was  opened  and  a  lot  of 
well-coated  and  bundled-up  people  entered,  these 
youngsters  blocked  the  way  to  the  dressing  rooms,  and 
began  a  doleful  lock-step  to  a  funeral  march  thumped 
out  at  the  piano  and  squeaked  from  memory  by  the 
violins,  and  added  to,  in  spots,  by  a  well-meaning  but 
discordant  base  rumble  from  the  horns. 

"  Hay- foot,     straw- foot  —  hay-foot,     straw-foot  I  " 


ia8       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

the  boys  and  girls  chanted  in  solemn  unison,  while  Dr. 
Marsden  stepped  up  to  the  newcomers  and  explained 
that  there  was  no  hope  of  escape  —  they  would  have 
to  go  down  the  full  length  of  the  line  and  shake  hands 
with  everybody,  before  they  would  be  allowed  to  take 
off  their  wraps. 

The  Mesdames  St.  John,  Cuthbert  and  Peters  were 
crestfallen,  but  what  could  they  do  but  submit  to  the 
outrage  with  what  grace  they  could  summon  to  their 
aid?  They  were  just  as  game  as  anybody  else  in  the 
Camp,  so  they  fell  into  step,  and  gave  the  impression 
that  it  was  their  idea  of  fun,  too. 

An  automobile  was  heard  outside,  coming  to  a  noisy 
stop. 

"  Barton  Colby  —  on  time,  for  once !  "  shouted  the 
lookout  from  the  window.  "  Welcome  him  like  a  re 
turned  hero,  everybody !  " 

Cheers  greeted  Mr.  Colby,  as  he  stepped  into  the 
great  hall  —  cheers  that  quite  obliterated  the  funeral 
march,  now  weakened  by  the  loss  of  one  instrument. 
The  cornetist  had  an  uncontrollable  attack  of  the  grins, 
which  seemed  to  have  congealed  on  his  face,  making  it 
impossible  for  him  to  toot  a  single  toot. 

"  That  boy's  alone  again !  "  complained  Mrs.  Peters 
in  Mrs.  St.  John's  ear.  "  These  men  make  me  so 
tired  —  they  never  take  the  girls  out  or  think  to  stop 
for  the  old  people  with  their  cars.  The  little  Carew 
girl  is  mad  over  Barton  —  wouldn't  you  think  he'd 
have  sense  enough  to  show  her  a  little  attention,  and 
give  her  a  chance  to  get  over  her  crush  —  as  she  would, 
of  course,  if  she  knew  him  better?  " 

But  Mr.  Barton  Colby  ran  his  own  affairs,  and  he 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        129 

had  not  played  football  at  college  for  nothing,  either. 
He  waved  a  glad  greeting  to  his  friends  —  and  broke 
through  the  line,  reaching  the  men's  quarters  without 
any  trouble  whatever. 

The  line  now  disintegrated,  and  everybody  went 
spinning  off  in  a  waltz  —  until  the  next  arrival  was  re 
ported.  Then  with  laughter  and  delight  they  all 
dashed  back  to  the  receiving  party  again,  and  a  signal 
to  the  orchestra  leader  turned  the  waltz  into  the 
funeral  dirge  once  more,  and  the  heavy  tramp,  tramp, 
tramp  of  all  the  feet  fairly  rocked  the  building. 

Those  nearest  the  entrance  heard  a  carriage  door 
slammed,  and  light  foot-steps  were  soon  on  the  porch. 
Next  the  door  to  the  hall  was  held  open  by  a  maid  for 
her  mistress  to  enter. 

Once  inside,  the  only  way  of  escape  closed  behind 
them,  the  lady  from  Copper  Hill  was  confronted  by 
the  most  alarming  parade  of  men  and  women  —  and 
surely,  it  was  not  surprising  she  did  not  understand. 
Eleanor  had  loosened  her  long  black  coat,  and  the 
white  scarf  that  had  been  about  her  head,  now  lay 
on  her  shoulders.  She  shrank  back  against  the  wall, 
looking  like  a  frightened,  delicate  girl  in  white,  facing 
her  doom.  Martha,  beside  her,  stood  horrified,  un 
compromising  and  defiant  —  ready  to  act  in  her  mis 
tress'  defence,  if  necessary. 

The  natural  embarrassment  of  the  stranger  was  felt 
by  a  number  of  persons,  instantly,  but  few  of  them  had 
met  her,  and  nobody  seemed  to  know  what  to  do,  ex 
actly.  Mrs.  St.  John  came  as  fast  as  she  could  from 
the  far  end  of  the  hall,  but  she  was  too  late. 

A  tall,  slender  young  man  sprang  out  of  the  ranks, 


i3o       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

and  politely;  offered  the  newcomer  his  arm,  saying 
close  to  her  so  she  caught  his  explanation  in  spite  of  the 
noise  about  them,  "  May  I  take  you  down  the  line, 
Mrs.  Evanston?  This  is  one  of  our  Hallowe'en 
pranks,  and  no  partiality  must  be  shown.  You  won't 
mind.  I  am  Mr.  Leonard." 

Eleanor  was  speechless,  but  she  gave  Billy  Leonard 
a  glance  of  gratitude.  She  slipped  out  of  her  cloak, 
handing  it  to  Martha,  whom  the  Captain  got  passed 
through  the  line  to  the  women's  quarters.  And  then 
together  they  went  the  full  length  of  the  hall,  shaking 
hands  with  everybody,  the  extraordinary  receiving 
party  breaking  up  and  whirling  off  in  a  two-step  as  she 
passed  —  the  last  ones  waiting  to  meet  her. 

When  they  were  finished  with  this  ordeal,  Captain 
Leonard  took  the  lady  to  a  chair  opposite  the  fire 
place,  where  they  were  about  to  exchange  a  remark  or 
two,  when  the  lookout  at  the  window  shouted,  "  An 
other  car  —  back  to  the  main  skirmish  line,  every 
body  !  "  And  like  well-trained  fire  horses,  all  the 
young  people  rushed  to  their  places,  making  every 
effort  to  appear  serious.  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp  went 
the  feet  —  throb,  thump,  bang  went  the  funeral  march. 

The  door  was  opened  to  admit  a  blast  of  cold  air, 
two  girls,  Mr.  Crawford  Mansfield  Kerr  and  Mr. 
Barry  Vincent  —  Mr.  Vincent  being  twenty-one,  hand 
some  and  bored  to  bits. 

The  girls  were  about  of  a  size  and  type  —  small, 
pretty,  full  of  vivacity  and  very  young.  They  were  in 
separable  chums.  To-night  they  gave  vent  to  two  de 
lighted,  high  squeals,  exactly  in  the  same  key  and  with 
exactly  the  same  gesture  of  holding  open  their  white 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        131 

broadcloth  evening  capes  like  great  wings,  and  making 
bows  that  were  perfect  in  the  unison  of  action.  Both 
of  them  were  dressed  in  sweet  little  white  frocks  with 
big  bows  in  the  same  places.  Their  meeting  with  the 
receiving  party  was  by  far  the  most  overwhelming  of 
all,  yet  their  utterances  of  joy  rose  above  the  roar  of 
the  Hallowe'en  gathering. 

"Who  are  they?"  Eleanor  made  herself  heard  to 
Captain  Leonard. 

"  They  are  some  of  the  squabs  I  was  telling  you 
about,  Mrs.  Evanston,"  replied  Mr.  Barton  Colby, 
leaning  near  enough  for  her  to  catch  his  words,  and 
cutting  Mr.  Leonard  out  of  the  privilege  of  answering. 
"  The  little  squab  with  the  pink  bows  is  Evelyn  Carew, 
and  the  one  with  the  blue  bows  is  Margaret  Page. 
And  because  they  act  like  a  pair  of  twins  on  the  stage, 
it  does  not  follow  they  are  related." 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Colby?"  said  Eleanor,  ex 
tending  her  hand.  "  And  how  did  you  come  upon  us 
so  quietly?  n 

"  I  wasn't  quiet.  The  Fourth  of  July  could  sneak 
up  on  you  without  your  knowing  it  in  this  row.  May 
I  have  this  waltz  that  is  just  starting?  " 

Eleanor  hesitated.  "  Thank  you,"  she  said,  "  but 
I  have  promised  to  sit  here.  It's  Captain  Leonard's 
dance,  I  think." 

"  He  really  isn't  a  Captain,  you  know  —  but  some 
times  he  is  a  winner.  I  congratulate  him,  and  I  will 
be  back  later,  if  I  may,"  he  said. 

The  Captain  was  most  entertaining  on  the  subjects 
of  broken  noses  and  the  follies  and  frailties  of  mankind 
generally.  Before  long  Eleanor  knew  worlds  about 


i'32       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

mines  and  the  "  pointless  lives  "  of  mining  engineers  — 
of  which  calling  the  Captain  was  a  follower. 

How  it  ever  came  about,  nobody  could  have  told, 
but  at  the  end  of  ten  minutes,  the  Captain  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  himself  volunteer  to  get  her  a 
miner's  candle-stick  the  very  next  time  he  went  under 
ground.  He  was  perfectly  confident  the  idea  of  giv 
ing  it  to  her,  was  all  his  own. 

"  But  what  on  earth  will  you  do  with  it?  "  he  smiled 
at  her. 

"  Oh  —  I  will  just  keep  it,  I  suppose,"  she  said, 
dreamily. 

And  before  anybody  was  ready  to  have  it  so,  it  was 
early  morning,  and  apples  all  had  big  bites  taken  out 
of  them,  the  candles  were  burned  out,  and  the  special 
cars  sent  down  after  the  merry-makers,  stood  being 
filled  up  with  happy,  joking  people.  Everybody  had 
had  a  good  time  —  everybody  but  Martha,  who  nearly 
perished  trying  to  keep  herself  awake  in  the  dressing 
room,  hanging  over  a  smoking,  smelling  little  oil  stove, 
until  she  should  be  wanted.  Martha  had  decided  there 
was  something  exceedingly  queer  about  this  party  — 
just  as  there  was  about  everything  and  everybody  in 
this  mining  camp. 

Captain  Leonard  saw  Eleanor  to  her  carriage  an 
hour  before  the  gathering  broke  up,  although  Mr. 
Colby  had  promised  himself  this  honour.  But  the 
"  squabs  "  waylaid  him  to  find  out  if  he  was  ever  going 
to  keep  his  promise  to  take  them  out  in  his  car. 

The  St.  Johns  were  among  the  very  last  to  leave,  and 
they  were  on  their  way  to  a  friend's  motor,  when  Stella 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        133 

Montgomery  stepped  out  of  the  women's  quarters,  her 
wrap  on  her  arm.  She  wore  a  green,  clinging  chiffon 
gown,  such  as  only  she  would  ever  dare  to  risk  her  good 
looks  in;  and  while  she  was  very  tired,  still  she  was  a 
picture  as  she  stood  smiling  at  her  friend. 

"One  moment,  Henrietta?"  she  stopped  Mrs.  St. 
John.  "  Before  you  get  away,  I  want  to  call  your  at 
tention  to  the  usual  absence  of  our  friend,  Mr.  Cra- 
thorne  Stone.  Just  bring  me  over  that  five  dollars 
you  owe  me  any  time,  dear.  Too  bad,  too,  for  you 
really  need  that  money,  yourself!  " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

COMETHING  of  the  old-time  weariness  overcame 
^  Eleanor  the  days  that  followed  close  upon  the  Hal 
lowe'en  party.  The  appalling  loneliness  of  her  pres 
ent  life,  seemed  to  rob  her  of  the  vitality  that  had  come 
to  her  with  the  newness  of  the  first  weeks  in  the  Camp. 
She  felt  as  exhausted  as  she  used  to  be  when  she  sat 
so  still  in  the  chair  beside  Dr.  LeRoy's  desk  in  New 
York.  She  lay  back  in  a  reclining  chair  before  the 
fire  after  dinner,  her  eyes  closed  —  her  mind  full  of 
questions  among  which  was:  Why  hadn't  Dr.  LeRoy 
written  her? 

Martha  had  invented  a  dozen  excuses  to  enter  the 
big  room,  and  each  time  she  could  not  say  whether  her 
mistress  were  almost  asleep,  or  only  pretending  to  rest. 
She  came  in  again,  and  sent  a  worried  glance  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  still,  relaxed  figure,  not  knowing  what  to 
do.  It  had  now  been  half  an  hour  since  Eleanor  had 
moved,  and  Martha  could  no  longer  stand  it.  "  Mrs. 
Evan?  "  she  faintly  ventured. 

The  lady  opened  her  eyes,  heavily.  "  Martha,"  she 
said  very  quietly,  "  do  say  my  whole  name?  You  re 
member  I  explain  about  once  a  week  to  you  that  it  is 
two  names  put  together  with  a  hyphen.  Say  it  all,  or 
simply  say  '  madame  '  in  that  affected  little  French  way 
I  have  taught  you." 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Ev  —  madame.  But  madame,  could 
that  country  doctor  do  something  for  you  ?  You  seem 
so  weak  and  you  have  not  eaten  a  thing  all  day." 

134 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        135 

"  I  sat  through  dinner,  didn't  I  ?  "  she  asked. 

*  Yes,  but  you  did  not  eat,  madame." 

"  I  don't  need  food.  And  Dr.  Marsden  would  not 
be  pleased  to  hear  you  call  him  a  '  country  doctor,' 
Martha." 

"  I  don't  like  him,  Mrs.  Evan  —  madame,"  Martha 
retorted,  stubbornly. 

Sometimes  Eleanor  grew  tired  of  Martha's  set 
opinions,  and  this  evening  she  tried  to  modify  them 
by  saying,  "  Do  you  know  why  I  am  out  here,  Martha? 
It  is  because  I  shrink  from  people.  My  very  wise 
physician  managed  to  place  me  where  I  should  be 
driven  to  care  for  people,  before  I  quietly  died  for 
want  of  reasons  to  live.  The  same  lesson  might  be 
good  for  you,  too." 

Martha  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  say  to  this, 
so  she  compromised  on  reverting  to  her  original  idea. 
"  Could  I  send  for  the  doctor,  Mrs.  —  madame?  "  she 
asked,  respectfully. 

"  Hand  me  the  telephone,  Martha,"  Eleanor  replied. 
"  The  cord  is  very  long  —  it  will  reach  this  chair,  I 
think.  And  give  me  the  directory,  too." 

Martha  set  the  instrument  on  the  board  arm  of  her 
chair  and  considered  herself  dismissed. 

After  a  while,  the  lady  lumberingly  raised  herself 
and  looked  over  the  book,  finally  opening  it  at  the  S's. 
"  Let's  see,"  she  mused.  "  S  —  St  —  Stone  —  yes. 
Here  we  are  —  Stone,  Crathorne,  Suite  5,  Quartz 
Club  Bldg.,  1692."  She  smiled  faintly  at  her  dis 
covery. 

She  fell  back  in  the  chair  again,  but  somehow  she 
was  gathering  together  a  little  strength  —  perhaps 


136       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

from  the  air  itself,  or,  perhaps  from  an  idea  that  was 
brewing.  She  said  to  herself,  "  I  believe  that  bore 
dom  kills  off  more  people  than  pain  ever  does!  " 

Soon  a  faint  smile  crept  over  her  face,  and  she  sat 
up  aga'in.  "If  91  gets  'Trouble,'1'  she  mused,  "I 
just  wonder  what  1692  will  get?  " 

Like  a  mischievous  child  —  rather  a  subdued 
naughty  child,  however  —  she  hesitated  before  press 
ing  the  button  which  would  call  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone. 
Then,  with  a  touch  of  impishness,  she  rang,  and  in 
stantly  nearly  perished  with  embarrassment. 

No  answer. 

She  waited  a  moment  and  then  pressed  the  button 
again.  A  man's  voice  answered.  Eleanor  thought  it 
was  Captain  Leonard's,  but  she  was  not  sure.  Back 
of  him  somewhere  was  a  splendid  baritone  voice  sing 
ing,  "  Calm  as  the  night  and  deep  as  the  sea,  must  be 
your  love  —  your  love,  dear,  for  me."  The  voice 
modulated  itself  to  admit  of  a  conversation,  but  still 
the  quality  was  so  pure  it  carried  right  through  the 
other  man's  "  Hello,  hello !  Who  is  it,  please  ?  " 

Eleanor  almost  weakened  on  her  resolve,  but  she 
gathered  together  her  courage,  and  imitating  the  me 
chanical,  nasal  voice  of  the  average  "  operator  "  she 
chanted,  "Hello-hello?  1692?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Captain  Leonard  —  she  was  sure 
now  it  was  he. 

"  Automatic  Telephone  Company  calling,"  she  told 
him.  "  There's  trouble  on  the  wire.  Keep  your  re 
ceiver  off  until  notified  to  the  contrary,  please." 

"  Very  well,"  agreed  Captain  Leonard,  and  then 
Eleanor  heard  him  call  out  to  the  voice  at  the  piano, 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       137 

"  Well,  this  is  a  new  one  on  me !  Say,  Thorny  —  cool 
down  a  minute,  will  you ;  I  want  to  tell  you  something ! 
—  did  you  ever  hear  of  their  telling  you  to  leave  the 
receiver  off,  while  they  — 

But  the  rest  of  it  was  lost.  The  singing,  however, 
went  right  on.  The  first  song  was  ended,  and  now 
"  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes  "  travelled  to  the 
top  of  Copper  Hill  in  all  its  quaint  charm.  The  clear, 
young  voice  of  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  carried  well,  al 
though  the  piano  sounded  unmusical.  He  played  an 
unaggressive  accompaniment,  however,  so  the  instru 
ment  did  not  detract  very  much  from  the  treat  to  the 
keenly  attentive  audience  to  whom  this  play  was  vastly 
more  appealing  than  an  opera  at  the  Metropolitan. 

The  nice  voice  soon  drifted  into  a  lovely  song,  whose 
words,  being  unfamiliar  to  Eleanor  did  not  reach  her 
clearly,  but  the  song  ended  in  the  plea,  "  Kiss  me 
again!"  And  then,  just  as  Eleanor  caught  a  small 
spirit  voice  within  her  own  mind  humorously  saying, 
"  With  pleasure !  "  What  should  astonish  her  ear  but 
an  impatient,  discordant  crash  of  notes  on  the  piano, 
and  Mr.  Stone's  speaking  voice  calling  out  in  slight 
temper,  "  Is  that  fool  thing  connected  still?  " 

"  It  is,"  solemnly  answered  a  third  voice  —  Eleanor 
was  sure  at  once  it  was  Mr.  Barton  Colby's.  This 
voice  continued,  "  Suppose  you  close  up  the  Caruso  end 
of  this  delay,  Thorny?  I'll  hang  up  the  receiver,  while 
Cap  gets  a  volume  of  something  improving  to  his  edu 
cation  —  then  you  come  on  down-stairs  and  play  me 
those  billiards  you  promised  to.  It's  too  much  like 
staying  in  nights  up  here  listening  to  you  singing  senti 
mental  classics,  to  suit  me." 


138       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Then  everything  was  silent  —  evidently  young 
Colby  had  hung  up  the  receiver,  quietly.  But  Eleanor, 
having  discovered  the  game  to  be  one  of  possibilities 
for  future  refuge  in  times  of  desperation,  decided  to 
carry  through  her  plan  to  the  end,  as  convincingly  as 
she  could.  She  waited  a  moment,  then  rang  1692 
again,  smiling  at  the  thought  of  getting  Captain  Leon 
ard  away  from  that  "  improving "  book  Mr.  Colby 
had  suggested. 

"Hello?"  came  the  sharp  acknowledgment  from 
the  club  end. 

Eleanor  was  suddenly  overcome  with  self-conscious 
ness  that  almost  amounted  to  actual  fear.  She  felt 
that  it  must  be  possible  for  Mr.  Stone  to  see  her !  She 
had  not  counted  on  his  answering. 

But  she  was  flagrant  to  the  end.  She  caught  her 
breath,  but  managed  to  chant,  "Hello-hello?  1692? 
This  is  Trouble  talking.  The  wire  is  all  right  now, 
thank  you." 

And  now  she  fell  back  in  her  chair,  murmuring,  "  I 
never  would  have  believed  it  of  myself  —  never.  A 
silly  thing  to  do,  but  perhaps  it  was  better  than  going 
crazy  ?" 

She  lay  so  quiet  for  the  next  few  minutes,  one  would 
have  thought  her  sound  asleep,  but  she  was  not  —  she 
was  saying  over  and  over  again  to  herself,  "  Calm  as 
the  night  and  deep  as  the  sea,  must  be  your  love,  your 
love,  dear,  for  me !  "  And  she  was  trying  to  hear 
again  the  voice  that  sang  these  words  —  but  she  could 
not  —  quite.  It  was  maddening!  Why,  oh!  why 
was  one's  memory  such  a  wretched  thing?  The  mind 
of  man  could  invent  and  make  a,  machine  that  could  re- 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       139 

member  every  ten-cent  purchase  made  in  a  grocery  shop, 
day  in  and  day  out  —  yet  the  mind  of  man  forgets  the 
expression  of  its  baby's  face,  and  can  seldom  see  how 
the  child  looks  —  except  as  he  actually  stands  before 
him,  aged  seven,  or  twenty-five  or  fifty  years  old. 

It  seemed  to  be  asking  so  little,  the  half-ill,  half- 
tired  woman  thought,  to  want  a  memory  that  was  a 
good  enough  machine  to  allow  one  to  close  her  eyes 
and  hear  again,  and  accurately,  a  voice  —  it  seemed  so 
very,  very  little  to  ask,  when  one  heard  what  one  loved 
so  seldom,  and  one  lived  so  much  —  alone. 

And  save  for  two,  great,  slow  tears  on  the  white 
cheeks,  one  would  surely  have  said  to  look  upon  the 
still  form  in  the  big  chair,  that  the  lady  slept. 

In  half  an  hour  a  step  was  heard  outside  and  the 
front  door  bell  was  rung  noisily.  Martha  passed 
through  the  living  room,  but  her  mistress  did  not  move. 

"  I'm  glad  you  came,  sir  —  she's  sick,"  Martha 
abruptly  announced,  before  Dr.  Marsden  had  a  chance 
to  give  his  name  or  offer  a  card.  "  Come  in,  sir!  " 

This  recalled  the  lady  to  herself,  and  she  closed  the 
directory  guiltily  —  it  was  still  open  at  the  S's  —  and 
she  rose  unsteadily  to  receive  the  doctor. 

"Well,  well,  well!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Marsden, 
cheerily.  "  What  is  this  I  hear  —  you  aren't  feeling 
well?  Would  you  rather  have  me  go  away  now,  and 
come  some  other  time?  I  just  dropped  in  to  make 
that  party  call  I  have  been  promising  myself  for  some 
days." 

"  I  am  all  right,  Doctor,"  she  pluckily  told  him. 
"  And  I  am  awfully  glad  to  see  you.  It  had  not  oc 
curred  to  me  to  hope  anyone  would  come  in  this  even- 


140       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

ing.  Will  you  lay  your  coat  over  there,  and  come  up 
near  the  fire?  " 

A  physician  is  apt  to  be  so  careful  not  to  give  the 
impression  of  suggesting  his  professional  services,  that 
he  is  often  the  most  casual  of  one's  friends  concerning 
one's  health  —  and  so  it  was  with  Dr.  Marsden.  He 
had  happened  to  call  at  a  time  when  his  quick  eye  saw 
he  was  needed,  but  he  had  not  been  summoned,  and 
so  he  dismissed  the  subject  of  his  hostess'  indisposition 
with  the  commonplace  remark,  "  I  think  we  shall  have 
to  try  a  little  Christian  Science  on  you,  Mrs.  Evanston, 
or  get  you  a  good  healthful  job  filling  up  ore  cars  in 
the  mines  —  this  would  be  fine  for  the  circulation,  you 
know." 

"  How  much  of  Christian  Science  do  you  believe, 
Doctor?  "  Eleanor  asked,  by  way  of  opening  up  some 
theme  for  conversation. 

"  Very  little  of  it,  thank  you,"  he  brightly  owned. 
"  I  am  an  old-fashioned  Christian,  myself  —  one  of 
those  self-satisfied,  comfortable,  non-church-going  ones, 
you  know,  that  rest  easy  in  the  firm  belief  in  hell-fire 
and  brimstone.  And  I  am  a  new-fashioned  scientist  — 
making  a  specialty  of  dietetics  and  all  that  kind  of 
thing.  Now  you  know  all  there  is  to  know  of  me." 

UO  Doctor!"  the  lady  expostulated,  softly,  "you 
really  don't  believe  in  eternal  punishment,  do  you?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,  I  fully  expect  to  bob  about  in  a 
pot  of  hot  oil  for  generations,  later;  that's  why  I'm  so 
light-hearted  now  —  I  am  accumulating  a  fund  of 
things  to  think  over  on  dull  days." 

"  I  believe  you're  only  teasing,"  she  said,  "  for  no 
body  in  this  enlightened  age  accepts  all  those  old  ideas 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        141 

we  are  supposed  to  stand  by  faithfully  in  memory  of 
our  forefathers.  It  isn't  possible  you  believe  in  Jonah 
and  the  whale,  is  it?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do !  "  stoutly  insisted  the  doctor, 
whether  in  earnest  or  not,  one  could  hardly  say. 

"Heavens!"  breathed  the  lady.  "  And  you  a 
stomach  specialist,  too!  " 

"  It  is  funny,  isn't  it?  "  he  smiled  back.  "  It  may  be 
disappointing,  but  it's  so  nice  and  easy.  I  believe  in 
lots  of  old-fashioned  things  besides  Eve's  being  at  the 
bottom  of  Adam's  having  to  move.  I  believe  in  love 
at  first  sight,  for  instance." 

"  Well,"  the  lady  reflected,  "  love  at  first  sight  cer 
tainly  goes  consistently  with  eternal  punishment  and 
Jonah  and  the  whale.  I  admire  your  definiteness,  any 
way.  Most  men  don't  bother  to  believe  anything  in 
particular  —  not  even  themselves." 

"  Do  they  ever  believe  —  you?"  the  doctor  asked 
with  a  cover  of  banter  thrown  over  his  wish  to  know 
something  of  this  woman. 

"One  man  did  —  once,"  Eleanor  answered,  with 
something  of  reminiscence  in  her  manner. 

"What  happened  to  him?"  the  doctor  quickly  fol 
lowed  up  his  leading  question. 

"I  —  I  don't  know,  exactly,"  the  lady  hesitated,  as 
if  weighing  her  words,  lest  she  find  herself  off  the  sur 
face  of  things,  all  of  a  sudden.  In  a  moment  she 
looked  up  with  a  faint  smile.  "  He  must  have  been 
rather  stupid  to  believe  in  me,  don't  you  think  so?" 
she  asked,  playfully.  But  down  deep  somewhere  in 
the  simple  words  lay  a  serious  strain. 

"  Tell  us  some  more  about  it,"  suggested  the  doctor. 


i42       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"That's  enough,  isn't  it?"  asked  the  lady.  "  He 
believed  in  me.  Do  you  know  that  song  whose  words 
are  '  Calm  as  the  night  and  deep  as  the  sea,  should  be 
your  love  for  me  '  ?  No  ?  Well,  it  is  a  very  wonder 
ful  song,  and  I  was  just  thinking  about  it  when  you 
came  in.  Well,  as  I  was  about  to  say,  you  know  there 
are  people  in  the  world  who  argue  that  because  they, 
themselves,  are  '  calm  as  the  night  and  deep  as  the 
sea,'  the  rest  of  us  are  very  much  the  same?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  suppose  that  is  a  natural  mistake,"  the 
doctor  said,  his  interest  encouraging  her. 

"  And  in  the  end,"  Eleanor  went  on,  somewhere  be 
tween  comedy  and  tragedy,  "  it  turns  out  that  we  are 
about  as  calm  as  Mount  Vesuvius  on  a  bad  day,  and 
yet  only  as  deep  as  a  sheet  of  letter  paper." 

"  I  see,"  smiled  the  doctor.  "  And  did  this  poor 
devil  in  question  get  an  idea  that  you  were  — " 

"  Deep  as  the  sea?  "  she  finished  for  him.  "  Per 
haps  he  did,  although,  of  course,  he  never  used  these 
words  —  I  am  using  them  because  they  express  so  much, 
and  they  happen  to  be  in  my  mind,  owing  to  my  having 
heard  them  sung  not  long  ago.  No  doubt  he  who  once 
believed  in  me,  imagined  that  I  would  stand  the  wear- 
and-tear  of  life  well  —  when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
don't,  and  I  never  did.  I  have  always  put  in  all  my 
energy  avoiding  the  pit-falls  and  leaving  the  work  and 
responsibilities  to  serious  people  like  you." 

And  she  smiled  so  delightfully  that  the  doctor  had 
no  idea  whether  she  was  in  earnest,  or  not,  and  he 
meant  to  lead  her  into  telling  him  something  of  her 
self,  too ! 

"  And  was  this  man  convinced  at  last  that  he  was 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        143 

wrong?  "  pleasantly  probed  the  doctor,  hoping  to  in 
volve  her  yet  into  giving  him  some  idea  of  whether  or 
not  she  was  free  to  be  trifling  with  him  as  hard  as  it 
seemingly  amused  her  to  play. 

"  We  never  discussed  the  matter,"  she  answered. 
"  But  I  fancy  he  was."  And  there  was  something  in 
the  atmosphere  that  seemed  to  pronounce  this  elusive 
statement  the  last  word  on  the  subject.  Even  the  doc 
tor's  adroit  mind  could  find  no  more  loop-holes  through 
which  to  send  in  any  more  question  marks. 

But  Dr.  Marsden  was  not  satisfied  —  oh!  not  at  all; 
nor  did  he  regard  this  his  last  attempt  to  gain  his  point, 
by  any  means.  He  would  keep  right  at  it,  he  resolved. 
And  in  the  instant's  pause  that  followed  the  lady's  last 
remark,  the  doctor  had  ample  time  to  reflect  that  she 
spoke  of  this  man  as  though  he  still  lived  —  not  as 
one  speaks  of  someone  who  is  dead.  But  was  he  of 
whom  she  had  given  him  this  interesting  inkling,  her 
husband,  necessarily?  Certainly  not  —  not  neces 
sarily.  It  might  have  been  some  little  Tommy  Tucker 
with  whom  she  played  snow-balls  as  a  child  —  or  may 
be  she  was  just  making  it  all  up  as  she  went  along,  for 
the  simple  purpose  of  being  entertaining.  How  pro 
voking  ! 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  try  some  other  theme 
for  verbal  amusement.  So  Dr.  Marsden,  like  the  aver 
age  young  man  who  is  hesitating  until  something  defi 
nite  presents  itself  for  observation,  filled  in  the  time 
by  asking  if  the  lady  were  warm  enough.  There  is 
something  delicately  sweet  in  a  man's  simple  concern 
in  knowing  if  the  woman  with  him  is  warm  enough  — 
it  has  been  an  effective  caress  ever  since  the  world  be- 


i44       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

gan,  and  is  almost  as  soothing  to  the  feminine  ear  in  a 
nice,  well-heated  room  when  one  has  on  her  heaviest 
clothes,  as  it  would  be  in  a  snow  storm  when  one  had 
forgotten  her  gloves. 

"  You  ought  to  have  somebody  up  here  to  take  care 
of  you,"  Dr.  Marsden  ventured,  in  a  way  that  might 
mean  either  a  good  deal,  or  nothing  at  all,  according 
to  the  listener's  mood. 

"  Martha  takes  excellent  care  of  me,"  the  lady  re 
plied.  u  She  keeps  the  house  so  clean  I  live  in  dread 
of  taking  cold;  everything  is  so  tidy  I  never  can  find 
anything  I  want,  and  we  have  enough  to  eat  to  feed 
the  Salvation  Army.  What  more  does  one  need?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  this  kind  of  care  —  the  kind  one  can 
buy.  I  was  thinking  of  somebody  bigger  than 
Martha,"  he  explained,  studying  the  fire,  intently. 

u  Well,"  the  lady  said  gently,  refraining  from  smil 
ing  at  the  bent  head  so  near  her,  although  it  was  an 
effort  to  keep  up  the  mock  seriousness,  "  I  am  fortunate 
in  having  that  kind  of  care,  too,  Doctor.  You  are 
taking  care  of  me,  you  see?  "  And  there  was  just  as 
much,  or  just  as  little  in  her  simple  confession  as  her 
listener  wished  to  reach  out  and  take  unto  himself. 
But  as  the  man  did  not  respond,  Eleanor  went  on, 
"  You  are  my  physician." 

He  turned  his  attention  from  the  burning  logs  to  the 
lady,  and  intimately  put  his  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair  and  looked  at  her  closely,  saying,  "  I  am  not  your 
physician,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  I  refuse  the  case !  " 

"  Why,  Doctor!  How  horrid  of  you!  You  at 
tended  my  maid  when  we  first  arrived  —  so  why  won't 
you  take  care  of  me,  if  I  wish  it?  " 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        145 

"  Because  professional  etiquette  would  not  permit 
it,"  he  replied,  decisively. 

"Why?"  insisted  the  girlish  invalid,  battling  with 
herself  not  to  laugh. 

"  Because  a  physician  is  not  supposed  to  take  the 
kind  of  interest  in  his  patients  that  I  take  in  you,"  he 
said,  with  apparent  sincerity,  "  that's  why." 

"  This  sounds  terribly  thrilling,"  she  said,  softly. 
"  What  kind  of  interest  do  you  take  in  me,  Doctor?  " 
It  never  could  be  said  of  Eleanor  that  she  was  a 
coward. 

"  I  take  every  kind  of  interest  in  you,"  the  man  said. 

The  lady  was  very,  very  sweet,  but  she  was  not  at 
all  moved  emotionally,  as  she  knew  she  was  expected  to 
be.  She  looked  at  the  man  beside  her,  and  so  close 
to  her,  unflinchingly,  and  remarked,  "  I  wouldn't  do 
that  if  I  were  you,  Doctor." 

"  Why  not?  "  he  demanded,  in  a  voice  and  manner 
that  clearly  indicated  he  wanted  an  honest  answer. 
Perhaps  he  thought  he  had  her  cornered  now  —  that 
she  would  say,  "  I  am  so  sorry  but  I  hardly  think  my 
husband  would  like  it." 

But  the  lady  deliberated.  Isn't  it  awful  to  have  peo 
ple  stop  to  ponder  on  things,  when  you  are  in  a  hurry 
to  be  answered? 

"  Well,"  Eleanor  drawled,  "  let  me  see!  I  should 
say  there  are  about  one  hundred  and  sixteen  good  rea 
sons  why  it  is  a  mistake  to  take  any  interest  in  a  person 
like  me  —  one  hundred  and  fifteen  of  which  don't  seem 
to  come  to  me  at  the  moment.  But  as  a  general  rule, 
it  is  a  great  mistake  to  take  an  interest  in  people  — 
don't  you  think  so  yourself,  Doctor?  " 


146       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

The  doctor  drew  yet  closer  to  the  lady,  but  as  he  did 
not  make  any  move  to  touch  her,  she  allowed  him  to 
remain,  unreproved.  So  far  as  he  could  judge,  his 
extreme  nearness  had  not  impressed  itself  upon  her  — 
certainly  it  did  not  frighten  her  at  all. 

"  When  you  are  tired  and  ill  and  all  by  yourself," 
the  doctor  began  with  considerable  magnetism  —  the 
usual  amount  of  it,  you  know,  there  generally  is  be 
tween  two  triflers  when  the  man's  audacity  goes  out 
masqueraded  as  sentiment  — "  don't  you  ever  wish  there 
was  somebody  bigger  than  you  near  by  —  to  take  care 
of  you?" 

"  Yes  —  thank  you !  "  replied  the  lady,  in  exact  dup 
licate  of  the  way  a  little  girl  would  say  the  same  words 
if  you  asked  her  if  she  would  like  a  piece  of  candy.  "  I 
always  wish  it.  And  when  there  occasionally  is  some 
one  bigger  than  I  near  me,  the  longing  to  be  taken  care 
of  amounts  to  " — (and  here  she  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders  a  little,  expressively)  — "  amounts  to  positive 
temptation." 

This  was  enough. 

The  man  lurched  forward  to  gather  her  into  his 
arms  —  but  instead  of  the  girl,  his  arms  encircled  — 
simply  space,  or  air,  or  something,  for  with  the  vital 
ity  of  some  creature  of  the  wild,  Eleanor  had  sprung 
out  of  her  chair  and  beyond  his  reach,  before  he 
could  focus  his  eyes  to  accept  the  moving  picture  of  her 
flight. 

She  was  now  looking  at  him  from  over  the  top  of 
the  back  of  the  chair  she  had  been  sitting  in,  leaning 
forward  prettily,  her  hands  calmly  folded,  quite  as 
though  nothing  whatever  had  happened  to  her  or  any- 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       147 

body  else  during  the  past  week.  "  But  as  I  was  about 
to  continue,"  she  went  on  in  exactly  the  same  tone  of 
voice  she  had  been  using  before  the  change  of  vantage- 
point,  "  temptation  is  one  of  the  very  riskiest  things  on 
earth  to  yield  to.  It  so  easily  grows  to  be  a  bad  habit 
—  don't  you  think  so,  Doctor?  " 

If  the  doctor  were  rebuffed,  he  gave  no  sign  accept 
ing  it,  or  even  acknowledging  it.  He  could  give  the 
idea  that  nothing  had  happened,  too  —  and  he  did. 
And,  being,  as  he  was,  a  very  clever  man  in  some  ways, 
he  did  not  revert  at  all  to  his  slight  mis-step  in  allow 
ing  himself  to  be  swayed  from  the  rigid  conventionali 
ties.  He  smiled  the  Camp  smile,  and  refrained  from 
expressing  the  least  surprise,  or  regret,  or  pique,  or 
apology. 

'  You  know,"  he  began,  as  if  in  deep  study,  "  I 
have  imagined  you  a  woman  of  temperament?" 

''  That  would  seem,  on  the  face  of  it,  a  discerning 
conclusion,"  she  smiled  back  at  him,  impersonally,  as  if 
lamely  offering  to  aid  him  in  his  researches. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  sure  it  is,"  he  further  analysed. 
"  Perhaps,  after  all  I  am  wrong?  I  believe  you  are  a 
bit  of  a  fakir  —  a  new  sort  of  '  nature-fakir  M  " 

The  doctor  went  on,  much  absorbed  in  his  own 
thoughts,  "  You  are  so  wonderfully  lovely,  and  so 
dearly  child-like  that  a  man's  first  impulse  is  to  touch 
you  —  and  his  second,  to  combat  everything  else  that 
touches  you.  But  I  have  been  reminded  sometimes 
that  it  is  a  man's  stunt  to  get  lost  in  his  own  feeling 
and  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  the  object  of  his  misery 
is  thinking  him  nothing  short  of  ridiculous." 

"  Perhaps   there   is   something   in   what   you   say," 


148       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

simply  replied  the  lady,  showing  every  nice  firm  tooth 
in  her  head. 

And  now  Dr.  Marsden  knew  he  was  not  being  taken 
with  a  becoming  degree  of  seriousness,  and  he  was 
piqued,  truly.  But  he  did  not  show  it,  as  he  stood  with 
folded  arms  in  front  of  the  open  fire,  saying  in  most 
friendly  tones,  "  Come  out  from  behind  the  bulwarks, 
why  don't  you?"  But  as  she  paid  no  attention  to 
this,  he  went  on,  u  Well,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  wend  my 
way  down  this  hill  —  it  must  be  getting  late.  But  be 
fore  I  go,  tell  me  something,  will  you  ?  " 

" 1  should  be  delighted  —  if  there  is  anything  1 
haven't  already  told  you,  Doctor.  What  is  it?"  she 
asked. 

"  Well,  tell  me,  if  you  will,  please,  what  is  the  harm 
in  a  kiss  now  and  then,  along  the  lonely  way  of  life?  " 
Then  he  waited. 

"  What's  the  good  of  a  kiss  now  and  then,  along  the 
lonely  way  of  life,"  she  questioned  him  back,  "  when 
the  kiss  is  really  not  for  you?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  the  man  asked. 

"  I  had  in  mind,"  she  replied,  "  the  kiss  I  just  missed 
getting  a  moment  ago.  Besides  it's  being  an  ac 
knowledged  mistake  to  accept  such  gifts  —  it  was  not 
for  me." 

"Not  for  you?"  he  repeated.  "  Then  for  whom 
was  it,  pray  tell?  " 

"  It  wasn't  for  anybody  at  all,"  she  enlightened  him, 
gracefully.  "  It  was  just  to  see  if  you  could.  And  I 
felt  it  would  be  unfair  to  take  it,  because  I  could  give 
you  the  information  you  want,  without  your  having 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        149 

to  incriminate  yourself.  Now  you  are  satisfied,  and  it 
is  all  settled.  You  see  the  point?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  do,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  But 
there  is  one  thing  that  is  proved  to  me  conclusively, 
and  this  is  that  beyond  your  warm  eyes  and  your  ap 
pealing  ways,  you  are  —  ice." 

They  both  still  smiled,  but  there  was  a  note  of  con 
test  between  them,  and  somehow  it  was  not  all  play, 
as  it  had  been  in  the  beginning.  The  doctor  lightly 
shrugged  off  his  defeat,  as  if  he  meant  to  imply  it 
amused  him,  and  only  tended  to  lend  a  pretty  touch 
to  his  victory,  whenever  that  should  come.  As  the 
woman  did  not  contradict  his  last  thrust,  he  gathered 
up  his  hat  and  coat,  with  one  more  question.  '  Why 
did  you  say  that  kiss  was  not  for  you?  "  he  asked,  in  a 
hurt  little  way. 

"  I  told  you  one  of  my  reasons,"  she  said,  "  but  if 
you  want  more,  here  goes !  It  could  not  have  been  for 
me,  Dr.  Marsden,  for  if  it  had  been,  you  would  have 
noticed  that  I  have  stood  longer  than  I  have  the 
strength  to  stand  —  you  would  have  taken  a  little  of 
that  *  care  '  of  me  that  you  referred  to  when  you  first 


came." 


This  hit.  The  man  stupidly  watched  her  go  to  the 
divan  and  sink  in  a  plaintive,  tired  little  mass  in  one 
corner,  and  when  he  got  his  tongue  he  said  something 
about  his  infernal  awkwardness,  and  something  else 
that  got  confused  and  made  no  sense.  He  crawled  into 
his  top  coat  and  held  out  his  hand,  in  a  distressed  way, 
saying,  "  I'm  sorry  —  I  never  was  thoughtful.  I  never 
was  much  of  a  lady's  man,  anyway.  But  you  will  let 


1 50       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

me  come  again,   won't  you  —  lady  in  the  key  of  A 
minor?  " 

u  Come  when  you  like,  Doctor,"  she  said  to  him 
cordially  and  forgivingly  —  for,  after  all,  had  it  not 
been  merely  some  sort  of  a  joke  that  happened  to  turn 
out  rather  badly,  as  jokes  have  a  way  of  doing?  And 
she  added,  in  parting,  with  a  smile,  "  But  may  I  suggest, 
Doctor,  that  you  have  a  care  about  that  ice  you  dis 
covered?  You  remember  they  found  out  a  few  years 
ago  that  there  is  enough  fire  in  ice  to  make  liquid  air  — 
boil?  Good  night,  and  a  safe  trip  down  the  hill!  " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

COMETHING  had  to  be  done  to  break  the  mo- 
^  notony,  certainly,  so  Eleanor  resolved  to  give  a 
dinner  party.  She  sat  at  her  desk,  thinking. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  she  had  spoken  with  the 
last  one  on  her  little  list,  and  she  was  contented  in  the 
knowledge  that  all  of  them  could  come  on  Thursday 
at  seven.  All  of  them  seemed  pleased  at  being  asked. 
She  went  at  once  to  Martha,  and  together  they  planned 
the  very  nicest  of  dinners.  And  it  helped  a  great  deal 
to  get  Eleanor's  strength  up  again,  because  with  all  of 
the  new  conditions  here,  she  was  forced  to  forget  her 
self  and  attend  to  all  the  details  for  a  well-appointed 
meal  —  and  it  gave  her  quite  enough  to  do  for  a  day 
or  two. 

At  last  Thursday  evening  came.  This  little  enter 
tainment  seemed  much  more  interesting  and  important 
to  Eleanor  than  such  a  gathering  ever  had  at  home, 
in  the  days  when  she  did  this  sort  of  thing  two  or  three 
times  a  week.  She  fluttered  about  at  the  last  mo 
ment  seeing  that  everything  was  all  right,  almost  ex 
cited.  She  noticed  how  pretty  were  the  soft-shaded 
lights  and  the  warm  rays  from  the  open  fire. 

When  everything  was  in  readiness,  the  great  room  of 
the  Burns  bungalow  looked  as  attractive  and  luxurious 
as  one  could  imagine.  Off  in  one  corner  was  the  tiny 
grand  piano  with  its  shining  keys  and  its  polished  ma 
hogany,  and  on  it  the  one  photograph ;  in  the  opposite 


152       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

corner  stood  the  round  table  with  six  places  marked 
by  beautiful  silver  and  glass  things,  and  in  the  centre 
were  lots  of  fine  orchids,  which,  in  this  treeless  and 
grassless  town  seemed  doubly  lovely.  A  single  orchid 
lay  in  front  of  the  one  photograph  —  it  just  lay  on  the 
embroidery  with  no  water  to  keep  life  in  it,  as  if  sug 
gesting  a  sacrifice  at  a  shrine  to  an  unsaintly  but  good- 
looking  young  man. 

Martha,  in  her  well-fitting  black  dress,  with  the  big 
white  apron  and  smart  white  cap,  was  no  less  perfect 
in  her  way,  than  was  her  mistress  in  an  evening  frock 
of  violet  chiffon  over  white  satin,  trimmed  with  ex 
traordinary  purple  flowers,  such  as  only  a  great  French 
designer  could  ever  conjure  up  in  his  fancy.  Her  orna 
ments  were  pearls  —  one  beautiful  cluster  on  the  cor 
sage,  and  long  ear-rings  of  pearls.  These  pendants 
made  Eleanor  look  foreign  and  they  seemed  to  ac 
centuate  the  whiteness  of  her  skin,  the  redness  of  her 
mouth  and  the  depth  of  her  brown  eyes.  Yet  with  all 
of  the  costly  dressing,  the  lady  presented  the  appear 
ance  of  one  whose  good  points  are  brought  out  by  art, 
but  not  dependent  upon  it.  She  seemed  very  young, 
and  a  little  shy. 

"  It  seems  good  to  see  you  in  something  that  is  not 
black,  Mrs.  Evan,"  remarked  Martha,  who  found  no 
warmer  way  of  expressing  her  admiration  for  her 
mistress  as  she  awaited  the  guests  at  her  first  dinner 
party  in  ages  and  ages. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  St.  John  were  the  first  to  arrive,  Mr. 
St.  John  leaving  his  things  in  the  vestibule,  and  his 
wife  crossing  to  her  hostess'  room,  from  which  she 
presently  emerged  in  a  gorgeous  yellow  satin  gown, 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        153 

with  gold  slippers.  Her  bodice  glistened  with  won 
derful  diamonds,  as  did  also  her  firm,  white  hands. 
Her  hair  was  formally  yet  elaborately  dressed,  and, 
in  a  word,  Mrs.  St.  John  looked  just  about  as  unlike 
a  mining  camp  as  though  she  had  never  been  any 
nearer  a  Montana  ore-drill  than  London  —  although, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  was  born  in  the  Camp  during 
the  time  when  the  pioneers  had  to  keep  an  eye  out  for 
the  Indians,  along  with  their  other  troubles. 

Before  Mr.  St.  John's  fingers  were  warmed,  another 
carriage  was  heard  being  drawn,  creakingly,  up  the  hill, 
and  shortly  Captain  Leonard  and  Dr.  Marsden  came 
in,  in  excellent  spirits  —  and  their  dinner  coats  instead 
of  their  jackets.  Most  men  in  the  Camp  felt  they 
had  made  concession  enough  to  civilisation  when  they 
wore  their  jackets  —  a  coat  meant  that  the  wearer  was 
above  average  impressed  by  his  invitation. 

Three  minutes  past  the  hour  —  and  Mr.  Barton 
Colby  was  still  missing. 

Mrs.  St.  John,  who  always  had  a  motherly,  devoted 
eye  out  for  the  boy,  tried  to  keep  her  apprehensive 
glance  from  the  face  of  the  clock,  but  with  partial 
success,  only.  She  well  knew  the  sinking  fe-eling  that 
all  of  the  Camp  hostesses  had  whenever  Barton  was 
expected.  And  this  time  she  felt  doubly  anxious,  for 
she  never  liked  to  have  any  newcomer  join  the  rest  of 
the  world  in  smiling  at  her  indulgent  attitude  toward 
the  boy.  But  it  soothed  her  somewhat  to  look  at 
Eleanor,  who,  if  she  was  disturbed,  certainly  did  not 
show  it. 

Seven  minutes  past  the  hour  —  and  there  was  an 
awful  rumbling,  snorting,  puffing,  struggling  sound 


154       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

heard  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Everybody  listened. 
On  and  on  it  came,  until  the  powerful  Colby  roadster 
was  heard  outside  being  brought  to  a  stand-still  with 
considerable  rumpus.  There  were  a  few  running  steps, 
then  the  door  bell  was  rung  like  a  quick  call  to  a  fire. 
Mr.  Colby  was  out  of  his  coat  in  a  second,  having 
given  it  a  master  hurl  at  the  hat-rack  while  entering  the 
big  room,  almost  upsetting  Martha  by  the  sheer  force 
of  the  wind  he  created  in  passing  her. 

uMy!  How  time  improves  me!"  he  gasped, 
grasping  his  hostess'  hand  warmly,  and  automatically 
acknowledging  the  others  —  Captain  Leonard  getting 
the  least  of  his  attention,  and  Mrs.  St.  John  an  under 
standing  smile.  "  Why,  if  this  keeps  up,"  the  boy 
hurried  on,  smiling,  "  I  shall  undoubtedly  blow  in  on 
time  some  day  and  be  the  cause  of  somebody's  death 
from  surprise.  I  did  pretty  well  to-night,  didn't  I, 
Mrs.  St.  John?  I  made  the  distance  from  my  rooms  in 
the  club  to  the  top  of  this  hill  in  six  minutes,  including 
one  arrest  —  the  engine  is  working  fine !  " 

"  And  having  been  a  lawyer,  Mr.  Colby,  I  suppose 
you  attended  to  the  slight  formalities  of  getting  your 
self  un-arrested,  without  difficulty?  "  Eleanor  asked. 

"  Oh  yes!"  the  boy  sweetly  replied.  "I  have  it 
all  fixed  up  with  the  police.  I  keep  a  bunch  of  signed 
checks  at  the  station  and  have  told  them  to  fill  them  in 
as  required  —  not  to  bother  me  when  I  am  on  my  way 
somewhere.  But  I  startled  a  new  officer  this  evening 
by  marring  his  fresh  shine  —  and  they  cost  fifteen  cents 
up  here  —  he  wouldn't  have  cared  so  much  for  a  five- 
cent  shine,  probably.  But  having  had  a  high  class  one, 
he  got  an  idea,  stupidly,  that  I  had  hurt  his  foot." 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        155 

Martha  appeared  with  a  tray  of  small  glasses. 

"  Ah!  "  exclaimed  the  boy,  good-naturedly,  "  Look! 
Who  says  I  don't  herald  luck?  Cocktails  —  hurray!  " 

Martha  passed  the  tray,  and  then  Captain  Leonard 
gracefully  proposed,  "  To  the  coming  of  our  hostess  to 
our  Camp!  " 

"  To  the  keeping  of  our  hostess  in  our  Camp!" 
quickly  added  Mr.  Colby. 

And  with  the  charming  gaiety  of  good  fellowship, 
they  all  drank  standing,  after  Eleanor's  gracious  bow 
of  acknowledgment.  Then  Martha  announced  dinner 
served,  and  they  found  their  places  —  Eleanor  with 
Captain  Leonard  on  her  right,  and  Mr.  St.  John  on  her 
left;  Mrs.  St.  John  with  Mr.  Colby  on  her  right,  and 
Dr.  Marsden  on  her  left. 

"  How  lovely  you  have  made  this  house !  "  remarked 
Mrs.  St.  John  to  her  hostess,  opposite  her,  by  way  of 
opening  the  conversation. 

"  It  makes  a  lot  of  difference  whether  a  man  or 
woman  lives  in  a  house,  doesn't  it?"  Captain  Leon 
ard  took  up  the  thread.  "  Now,  in  good  old  Burns' 
day,  we  used  to  have  a  lot  of  fun  up  here,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  and  we  thought  he  had  the  best  of  taste 
—  but  the  house  is  warmer  now  some  way.  A  man's 
house  may  be  attractive,  and  even  comfortable,  but  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  it's  cold." 

"  Our  homes  are  generally  conceded  to  be  cold 
places  where  you  have  hot  times,"  commented  Mr. 
Colby. 

"  Not  so  bad,"  thought  Dr.  Marsden. 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  think  of  things  being  reversed," 
Eleanor  joined  in.  "  It  would  be  disappointing,  in- 


156       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

deed,  if  women  had  warm  homes  where  one  had  cold 
times." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  Mr.  St.  John  began  in  his  de 
liberate  way,  which  invariably  got  close  attention,  for 
Galvin  St.  John  seldom  spoke  at  all,  unless  circum 
stances  demanded  it;  "  the  Cuthberts  are  getting  on 
badly  again  —  they  had  a  scene  in  the  club  dining 
room  again  to-day.  Strange  they  don't  try  to  keep 
their  affairs  more  to  themselves,  isn't  it?  " 

14  Why  don't  those  two  get  a  divorce  and  give  the 
town  a  rest  from  their  everlasting  squabbles,  anyway?  " 
asked  young  Colby. 

A  pause  threatened  them  here,  for  Mrs.  St.  John 
suddenly  became  self-conscious,  as  though  the  subject 
of  divorce  were,  perhaps,  ill-considered,  as  most  per 
sons  took  for  granted  their  hostess  was  a  divorcee,  her 
self.  She  glanced  at  Dr.  Marsden  appealingly,  hoping 
he  would  change  the  tenor  of  things  —  but  no  indeed ! 
The  doctor  ate  biscuits  and  secretly  prayed  that  some 
thing  interesting  might  be  brought  forth  under  pressure. 

Mr.  St.  John  having  been  the  one  to  bring  up  the 
Cuthberts —  (who  were,  incidentally,  practically  pub 
lic  property,  they  were  so  flagrant  about  their  own  af 
fairs)  —  still  had  enough  interest,  apparently,  to  wish 
to  continue  the  subject  further.  And  this  he  did,  as 
suming  that  the  worried  glance  his  wife  gave  him, 
meant  nothing  more  than  that  he  had  got  the  wrong 
fork  again.  He  was  not  going  to  let  the  small-talk  lag 
if  he  could  help  it,  so  he  went  on,  "  Well,  Barton,  as  a 
lawyer,  or  a  has-been  lawyer,  why  don't  you  volunteer 
to  get  the  lady  a  decree  ?  " 

"  Now  that's  a  splendid  idea !  "  Mr.  Colby  smiled 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        157 

back.  Then  turning  to  his  hostess,  he  said,  u  You 
did  not  know  what  a  versatile  person  I  am,  did  you? 
I  can  do  almost  anything  for  you  —  but  be  on  time. 
I  can  take  you  motoring,  wash  the  dishes,  beau  you 
through  a  mine,  or  get  you  a  divorce !  " 

The  uneasiness  had  worked  its  way  to  Captain 
Leonard  by  now,  and  even  Mr.  St.  John  vaguely  felt 
something  out  of  the  ordinary,  but  he  could  not  place 
it.  And  noting  the  stillness,  young  Colby,  himself, 
wondered  what  was  wrong.  Things  were  on  the 
verge  of  being  awkward,  when  as  usual,  Eleanor,  her 
self,  took  up  the  responsibility  of  the  conversation. 

With  unflinching  eyes  that  greatly  puzzled  Mrs.  St. 
John  and  Dr.  Marsden,  and  with  the  pleasantest  smile 
imaginable,  she  looked  at  Mr.  Colby  and  said,  "  You 
are  joking,  aren't  you?  Or  could  you  really  get  one 
a  divorce?  " 

If  his  hostess  were  not  afraid  of  the  subject  of 
separation,  why  should  Barton  Colby  be?  He  wasn't. 
He  smiled  back  at  her  in  his  irresistible  way,  and  re 
plied,  "  Surely  I  can!  Any  time.  I'll  be  delighted  to 
get  you  a  divorce  for  a  hundred  dollars  —  or  six  for 
five  hundred." 

This  called  forth  a  nervous,  relieved  laugh  from 
Mrs.  St.  John,  who  remembered,  only  too  well  the  last 
time  an  effort  was  made  to  get  some  information  out 
of  this  woman  concerning  "  Mr.  Evanston."  And  so 
the  possible  embarrassment  passed  by  —  thank  heaven ! 

But  immediately  following  this,  another  pause 
seemed  about  to  drop  upon  them,  for  some  unknown 
reason  —  unless,  possibly,  the  hostess  was  an  outsider, 
and  the  people  of  the  Camp  were  rather  personal  in 


158       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

their  dinner  chat,  and  this  time  did  not  want  to  indulge 
in  their  usual  conversation  to  the  exclusion  of  her. 
They  hardly  knew  for  a  second  what  to  take  up  next. 

Mr.  Barton  Colby  was  thinking  very  fast,  and  re 
solving  that  he  would  rather  take  the  brunt  of  the 
work  upon  himself  than  to  sit  still  a  second  longer  and 
listen  to  somebody  say  something  about  an  angel  pass 
ing,  or  its  being  twenty  minutes  to  the  hour,  or  twenty 
minutes  after  it.  He  was  a  high-strung  youngster  and 
there  were  some  things  he  simply  could  not  stand  — 
these  space-fillers  were  among  them.  So  it  was  that  he 
looked  up  brightly,  and  addressing  the  table  at  large, 
said,  "  Before  somebody  says  something  we  all  know  to 
be  true  about  -the  weather,  may  I  ask  a  question? 
You  remember,  in  comic  opera,  the  way  they  usually 
introduce  some  specialty  like  a  topical  song?  " 

This  unexpected  turn  of  things  seemed  to  get  the 
interest  firmly,  and  they  all  answered,  like  a  badly 
trained  chorus,  themselves,  "  Yes  —  we  know  — 
why?" 

Young  Colby  smiled  and  sighed,  "  Well,  I  hate  to 
talk  about  myself,  but  I  feel  it  coming.  Ever  since  I 
have  lived  in  this  Camp  I  have  been  waiting  for  the 
right  stage  setting  in  which  to  tell  you  of  the  time  when 
I  was  a  lawyer.  Here  in  this  soft  light,  with  the  audi 
ence  all  dressed  up,  its  being  '  society  night,'  I  think  I 
could  confide  that  experience  to  you  —  that  is  if  I  were 
coyly  urged  and  you  fixed  up  an  inspiring  opening  for 
me.  But  my  natural  modesty  forbids  my  suggesting 
such  a  thing,  myself."  Then  the  boy  took  much 
pains  to  study  the  design  in  the  decoration  on  his 
plate. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       159 

Even  Captain  Leonard  smiled  at  Colby's  ingenuity 
and  his  kindly  effort  to  keep  clear  of  lags  in  the  verbal 
part  of  this  dinner.  And  Dr.  Marsden  went  further 
in  taking  up  the  humorous  idea  actively  by  saying,  "  I 
elect  myself  the  stage  manager,  and  give  you  all  notice 
that  we  shall  present  a  new  light  opera  with  no  sing 
ing,  called  *  His  Shyness  and  Her  Highness,  or  Why 
He  Quit  The  Law.'  The  curtain  goes  up,  and  you 
will  all  write  your  own  lines  and  deliver  them  to  suit 
yourselves.  Mrs.  Evanston,  as  the  blond  princess,  you 
will  please  open  the  play!  " 

It  was  all  deliciously  childish,  and  they  gaily  took 
up  the  absurdity. 

"Oh!  where  can  my  prince  be?"  sighed  Eleanor, 
leaning  forward  on  her  elbows,  and  closing  her  eyes, 
her  long  dark  lashes  falling  effectively  on  her  white 
cheeks.  "  Could  the  Law  have  kept  him  from 
me?" 

Young  Colby  looked  up,  on  a  broad  grin,  and  re 
marked  softly,  "  May  I  trouble  you,  Sir  Galvin,  to  pass 
the  princess'  hand  that  I  may  kiss  it  before  explain 
ing?" 

Mr.  St.  John  turned  to  his  hostess,  saying  grandly, 
"  With  your  highness'  permission?  "  And  picking  up 
her  fingers,  he  placed  them  in  Mr.  Colby's  hand,  that 
young  man  rising  so  that  the  lady  might  not  be  in 
convenienced  by  having  to  move,  herself. 

Dr.  Marsden  craned  his  neck  opposite  and  uttered 
a  protest  as  Mr.  Colby's  lips  lingered  a  second  on  the 
white  fingers  he  so  deferentially  held  —  fingers  with 
out  a  marriage  band,  Mrs.  St.  John  noticed.  "  Cut 
that  out,  Prince !  "  commanded  the  doctor  in  his  au- 


160       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

thority  as  the  stage  manager.  "  That's  a  real  kiss, 
and  this  is  only  a  play!  " 

Mrs.  St.  John  thought  it  was  a  real  kiss,  too,  but 
she  managed  to  be  silent.  Captain  Leonard  scowled 
at  not  having  been  cast  as  the  leading  man  —  and 
Martha  was  driven  to  the  conclusion  that  everybody 
was  crazy,  and  asked  the  woman  in  the  kitchen  if  she 
thought  they  could  have  got  anything  wrong  in  the 
cocktails. 

Eleanor  knew  it  was  a  real  kiss. 

"  I  will  tell  you  *  all,'  Princess,"  young  Colby  said, 
in  his  most  winning  way  —  which  was  at  times,  very, 
very  winning,  "  but  another  day  —  when  we  two  are 
off  together,  out  of  ear-shot  of  these  prying  supers.  I 
meant  to  tell  you  what  I  did  to  the  Law;  then  what  the 
Law  did  to  me !  But  I  can't  —  the  joy  of  seeing  you 
again  is  so  great,  I  cannot  think  of  myself.  The 
chorus  will  testify  that  I  am  fascinated  far,  far  beyond 
the  usual  limits  —  won't  you,  chorus?  " 

"  I  should  say  we  would !  "  they  came  in,  as  expected. 

"  But  I  thank  you  for  the  pretty  introduction;  and 
deep  is  my  regret  at  having  to  continue  to  keep  this 
ripping  good  story  from  you,  yet  a  little  while.  Now 
I  can  think  of  nothing  but  —  the  Princess." 

And  this  chapter  in  the  history  of  Mr.  Barton  Colby 
—  this  chapter  on  the  Law,  which  always  sounded  so 
full  of  possibilities  —  was  still  kept  secret,  and  no 
amount  of  urging  could  draw  it  from  "  his  shyness." 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  FTER  dinner  the  party  wandered  about  the  big 
•*\  room,  looking  over  the  rows  and  rows  of  books 
that  Mr.  Burns  had  left  in  the  house,  and  the  pictures 
and  little  things  everywhere  that  belonged  to  the  pres 
ent  tenant.  Everyone  seemed  to  feel  very  much  at 
home  and  quite  happy;  and  at  this  particular  moment, 
a  group  of  four  over  at  the  fireplace  were  discussing 
a  possible  game  of  bridge,  while  Captain  Leonard  and 
Eleanor  were  at  the  piano,  where  the  lady  sat  idly  run 
ning  arpeggios  up  and  down  the  keyboard,  the  man 
standing  beside  her,  chatting. 

"  By  Jove !  "  the  Captain  suddenly  exclaimed,  catch 
ing  sight  of  the  one  flower  before  the  brown  photo 
graph,  "  one  orchid,  eh?  Well,  this  reminds  me  of 
No.  5  Quartz  Club  Building !  " 

"It  does?  Why?"  asked  Eleanor,  hoping  sin 
cerely  she  did  not  appear  to  be  as  interested  as  she  was. 

Her  guest  did  not  answer  directly,  but  asked,  as  if 
feeling  his  way  a  bit,  "  Where  did  you  get  the  idea  of 
having  just  one  flower?  " 

"  That  is  about  the  only  idea  I  was  born  with,  Cap 
tain,"  she  smiled  up  at  him.  "  A  flower  is  loveliest 
when  one  sees  it  all  by  itself  I  think.  Don't  you?  " 

A  shrewd,  humorous  expression  came  into  the  Cap 
tain's  clear  eye  as  he  drew  a  shade  nearer  and  spoke 
in  lower  tones,  saying,  "  Do  you  know  anything  about 
one  orchid  that  comes  to  our  place  every  once  in  a 
while?" 


1 62       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  One  orchid  —  your  place  —  every  once  in  a 
while?  "  Eleanor  repeated,  with  that  trick  of  hers  that 
always  made  people  talk  on,  without  getting  their  own 
questions  answered  first. 

The  man  continued,  "  Don't  you  know  anything 
about  one  orchid  that  arrives  by  special  messenger, 
every  now  and  then?  I  mean  the  orchid  that  is  at 
once  placed  in  a  tall,  becoming  vase,  and  set  tenderly 
on  the  piano,  with  a  string  of  smilax  or  something 
gently  dangling  down  toward  the  music  rack  where  it 
might  get  in  your  eye  if  you  weren't  careful?  " 

The  lady  puckered  up  her  delicate  little  face  in  a 
puzzled  way  —  and  used  the  same  old  bait  again,  ef 
fectively.  "  A  string  of  smilax  or  something?  "  she 
gasped  in  a  wee,  high  voice. 

"  A  string  of  smilax  —  exactly,"  Captain  Leonard 
assured  her,  watching  her  closely.  "  And  there  is 
never  a  card  enclosed.  Can  you  help  solve  the  mys 
tery,  Mrs.  Evanston?  " 

"  I  wish  I  could!  "  she  said  cordially.  "  But  can't 
the  florist  aid  you?" 

"  He  swears  he  can't,"  dolefully  confided  the  Cap 
tain.  "  He  either  does  not  know  who  buys  the  single 
flower  —  or  else,  he  is  bribed  to  keep  mum." 

"  How  disappointing  of  the  florist!"  sympathetic 
ally  remarked  the  lady.  Then  pondering  a  moment  as 
though  the  affair  were  of  great  importance,  she  spoke 
again  —  this  time  to  foil  the  Captain,  utterly.  "  And 
have  you  had  the  delightful  impertinence  to  think  I 
might  have  been  sending  you  single  orchids,  just  be 
cause  you  happen  to  run  onto  one  lying  on  my  piano  — 
colossal  person?  "  she  asked,  amused  to  a  broad  smile. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        163 

The  Captain  leaned  still  farther  forward  over  the 
piano,  so  that  he  faced  the  lady,  squarely,  "  I  supposed 
you  understood,"  he  began  slowly,  "  that  the  orchid 
does  not  come  to  me  at  all  —  it  is  always  addressed  to 
Mr.  Stone  with  whom  I  live." 

"O-oh!  I  see!"  she  replied,  with  an  expression 
that  made  the  Captain  say  to  himself  that  she  was  cer 
tainly  a  wonderful  actress  —  if  she  was  acting!  Then 
she  went  on  pleasantly,  "  It  is  awfully  good  of  you, 
Captain,  to  let  me  into  the  secret.  It  makes  one  feel 
like  an  accepted  member  of  a  community  to  be  included 
in  its  jokes  —  it's  the  most  subtle  of  flatteries.  I 
promise  I  won't  tell  a  soul.  And  I  am  ever  so  much 
entertained,  for  I  once  had  a  moment's  chat  with  Mr. 
Stone  —  Mr.  Colby  introduced  us  over  the  telephone. 
Wasn't  that  unique  of  him?  You'll  tell  me  who  is  pay 
ing  him  this  quaint  attention  when  you  find  out  your 
self,  won't  you?  " 

Then  the  Captain  wished  very  much  that  he  had  said 
nothing.  He  looked  about  for  a  suggestion  for  a  re 
mark  or  two  upon  some  other  subject.  His  eye 
naturally  rested  on  the  one  photograph.  He  began 
studying  it,  with  interest  —  and  the  intention  of  avoid 
ing  giving  the  impression  of  being  curious.  Eleanor 
watched  him,  covertly. 

"  That's  rather  extraordinary !  "  he  volunteered  at 
last.  "  This  picture  looks  a  good  deal  like  Thorny  — 
it  looks  like  a  younger  brother.  The  shape  of  the  two 
heads  is  marked,  and  the  eyes  are  strikingly  alike. 
But  Thorny  never  wears  a  beard." 

"  So  Mrs.  St.  John  told  me,"  said  the  lady.  "  She 
thought  there  was  a  decided  resemblance,  herself." 


164       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  Don't  you  think  they  are  very  much  alike  ?"  the 
Captain  asked,  wondering  if  it  might  please  her  to  say 
something  concerning  this,  the  only  photograph  she 
cared  to  have  in  evidence  in  her  house,  apparently. 

But  again  he  was  put  off. 

"  Ever  since  I  have  been  here,"  Eleanor  told  him, 
"  I  have  been  hearing  that  I  should  meet  Mr.  Stone  — 
or  that  I  should  not  meet  him  (I  don't  remember 
which)  — but  only  once  have  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
him.  This  was  rather  a  fleeting  glimpse  at  the  country 
club  one  day,  and  on  that  occasion  I  did  not  think  to 
compare  the  two  faces.  But  surely  the  likeness  must 
be  marked,  or  you  all  would  hardly  be  of  the  same 
opinion."  She  lightly  ran  the  chromatic  scale,  and 
then  looked  up  and  remarked,  "  How  much  photog 
raphy  improves  from  year  to  year,  doesn't  it?  "  And 
the  topic  of  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  had  but  one  course 
open  to  it,  and  that  was  to  consider  itself  passed  by. 

Just  here,  anyway,  they  were  interrupted  by  Mr. 
Barton  Colby,  who  joined  them  with  the  statement  that 
they  wanted  to  play  a  rubber  of  bridge  at  the  other 
side  of  the  room,  but  they  would  not  stand  for  his 
game.  Although  his  feelings  were  cut  to  the  core,  he 
explained,  he  felt,  nevertheless,  that  he  would  have  to 
give  up  his  place  to  the  Captain  —  if  his  hostess  were 
still  of  the  opinion  she  did  not  wish  to  play,  her 
self. 

The  Captain  was  well  contented  just  where  he  was, 
as  no  one  better  appreciated  than  young  Colby,  but 
what  could  he  do  after  this?  Mr.  Colby's  bridge  was 
quite  good  enough  to  keep  him  in  cigarettes  —  which 
was  good  enough  bridge  for  anybody  —  but  he  had 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        165 

piloted  his  own  little  canoe  to  the  landing  stage  that 
best  pleased  his  fancy  —  the  piano.  And  he  was  de 
lighted  both  ways;  at  being  with  the  lady  himself,  but 
especially  at  upsetting  the  Captain's  evident  plans  for  a 
long  chat  with  her. 

The  boy  glanced  after  the  retreating  figure  of  the 
Captain,  when  that  young  man,  with  his  usual  grace, 
bowed  himself  off  to  fill  in  at  cards,  and  he  dryly  re 
marked,  "  It  seems  to  me  that  Cap  didn't  look  as  grate 
ful  as  he  should  at  being  allowed  in  the  game.  Was 
he  as  amused  over  here  as  he  looked  —  Princess?  " 

"  I  cannot  speak  for  him  —  Lawyer,"  she  sweetly 
replied. 

The  boy  pretended  to  listen  to  Eleanor's  pretty 
chords  a  moment,  then  he  said  with  gentle  audacity, 
"  Princess  is  a  good  name  for  you  —  it  says  so  much 
so  concisely." 

"  Does  it?"  the  lady  asked,  dreamily.  "I  never 
encountered  a  princess  but  once."  Then  she  smiled 
adorably. 

"  Well,  when  you  *  encountered '  her,"  the  boy 
smiled  back,  "  did  she  have  crowds  of  soft,  dark  hair 
and  eyes  that  were  like  the  eyes  in  a  fine  portrait  — 
eyes  that  give  the  idea  of  depth  and  colour  without  any 
use  being  made  of  hard  lines?  And  did  she  wear 
dresses  that  —  that  sort  of  expressed  her  eyes  ?  " 

Eleanor  either  did  not  recognise  the  daring  attempt 
to  describe  herself,  or  else  she  did  not  see  fit  to  show 
she  realised  young  Colby's  meaning.  Neither  Colby 
nor  anyone  else  could  have  told  which,  by  looking  at 
her,  as  she  drew  forth  some  rich  minor  chords  from  the 
piano,  glancing  first  at  the  boy  and  then  at  the  key- 


166       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

board,  and  not  paying  any  particular  attention  to  either 
of  them. 

"  N-no,"  she  finally  relieved  him.  "  No,  not  this 
princess.  Princesses  are  always  more  or  less  disil 
lusioning,  you  know?  " 

"  Are  they?  "  the  boy  questioned.  "  Perhaps,  how 
ever,  play-princesses  are  not?  " 

"  I  never  knew  any  play-princesses,"  Eleanor  replied 
impersonally,  yet  thoughtfully. 

"  You  know,"  young  Colby  began,  reaching  for  a 
chair,  "  you  are  awfully  clever?  " 

Eleanor  smiled  upon  him  and  made  answer,  "  I  like 
to  hear  you  say  that,  but  I  am  honest  enough  to  feel 
I  ought  to  confide  to  you  that  you  are  terribly  mistaken. 
If  I  had  been  clever,  I  should  have  had  you  talking  to 
me  of  things  worth  while,  long  ago."  She  played  a 
little  refrain  of  some  dreamy  thing,  and  then  looked  up 
with  a  new  line  of  ideas  entirely.  "  Tell  me,"  she  said, 
"  when  one  is  the  manager  of  a  great  copper  mine,  is 
his  office  down  under  the  earth,  half-way  to  China, 
too?" 

The  possibility  of  such  a  thing  seemed  to  amuse 
young  Colby,  but  he  saw  she  was  sincere.  "  What  ever 
made  you  think  they  had  offices  underground?"  he 
asked. 

"  They  tell  strangers  such  marvellous  things  that  it 
is  only  natural  we  should  be  confused,"  she  explained. 
"  Why  couldn't  they  have  an  easy  thing  like  an  office 
underground,  when  they  find  a  way  to  keep  horses  and 
mules  down  there,  year  in  and  year  out?  I  knew  they 
were  joking  when  they  told  me  they  always  smelted 
the  mules  when  they  died,  to  get  back  the  high  grade 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        167 

copper  they  had  breathed  in,  but  I  did  not  expect  to 
convulse  you  by  the  mental  picture  of  a  roll-top  desk 
down  there." 

"  I  won't  laugh  at  you,"  the  boy  politely  comforted 
her.  "  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  my  office,  like  those  of 
other  miners,  is  on  top  of  the  earth  near  the  entrance 
to  the  mine,  in  a  perfectly  good  little  building  with 
steam  heat,  telephones,  change-rooms  for  the  engineers 
with  shower  baths  and  the  daily  papers  —  it's  quite  as 
neat  as  the  Waldorf,  even  if  not  so  much  gilded  up. 
But  you  must  visit  us  at  the  mine  sometime.  We  can 
get  up  a  party  and  we  can  fix  you  up  in  some  old  clothes 
we  keep  for  visitors.  You'll  look  rather  different  from 
the  way  you  do  now  —  you'll  have  an  old  skirt,  a  man's 
coat  and  a  battered  hat  and  handsome  gum-shoes  and 
a  miner's  candle-stick,  and  we  will  let  you  down  in  a 
cage  2500  feet  without  a  stop  —  that  is,  unless  the 
cable  snaps  half-way  down." 

"  Might  I  keep  the  miner's  candle-stick  —  that  is,  if 
the  cable  stands  the  strain  until  we  got  back  to  land? 
I  have  always  wanted  a  miner's  candle-stick  —  an  old 
one  with  candle-grease  and  rust  on  it  to  show  it  had 


seen  service." 


"  I  should  say  not!  "  seriously  the  boy  cautioned  her. 
"If  they  caught  you  stealing  a  candle-stick,  Mullins, 
our  big  shift-boss  would  arrest  you  and  make  you  travel 
up  and  down  an  hour  in  our  most  rickety  cage." 

"  Why?  "  she  gasped,  just  like  a  small  child. 

"  Because !  "  Mr.  Colby  sternly  enlightened  her. 
"In  the  first  place  it  is  a  bad  no-no  to  steal;  second 
place  we  all  get  tired  of  visiting  ladies  doing  the  same 
stunt;  third  place,  Mullins  likes  to  escort  ladies  down 


1 68       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

the  shaft  —  they  always  get  horror-stricken  and  having 
nowhere  to  jump  but  into  his  arms,  that's  what  they 
generally  do,  and  Mullins  doesn't  mind.  However, 
I  could  get  you  a  miner's  candle-stick,  myself.  But 
what  would  you  do  with  it  if  you  had  it?  " 

"  Oh,"  Eleanor  told  him,  "  I  would  lay  the  candle 
stick  on  my  desk,  I  suppose." 

"  What  for?  "  the  boy  questioned  her. 

"  Oh  —  I  can't  say,  exactly,"  she  replied,  in  a  dear 
little  way. 

"  Now  Til  tell  you  what  I  will  do,"  the  boy  bar 
gained,  enjoying  every  moment  of  this  useless  conver 
sation,  "  I'll  give  you  a  miner's  candle-stick,  if  you  will 
give  me  that  one  orchid  on  the  piano." 

"  But  if  I  did,  what  would  you  do  with  it?  "  Eleanor 
asked. 

"  Oh,"  the  boy  hesitated  with  a  vague  look  of  amuse 
ment,  "  I  might  stick  it  in  a  long,  slim  vase  and  put  it 
on  my  piano,  I  suppose." 

"  What  for?  "  Eleanor  asked,  in  her  turn  now. 

"  Oh,"  he  mimicked  her  in  a  veiled  sort  of  way,  "  I 
can't  say,  exactly." 

Considering  Captain  Leonard's  revelation  of  a  few 
moments  before,  this  suggestion  struck  Eleanor  with 
some  significance.  What  was  this  joke,  anyway? 
She  smiled  faintly,  not  appreciating  that  young  Colby 
would  be  able  to  detect  any  change  of  expression. 

But  Mr.  Barton  Colby  missed  very  little  that  was 
to  be  seen  as  he  tore  through  life,  running  into  a  story, 
here  in  his  sturdy  motor  car,  and  whirling  about  and 
running  out  of  a  story,  there.  "  I  thought  this  would 
interest  you !  "  he  remarked,  guardedly. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        169 

Now  Eleanor  did  not  know  what  to  say.  Perhaps 
the  two  references  to  an  orchid  in  a  tall  vase  were  noth 
ing  more,  after  all,  than  a  coincidence,  and  to  take  up 
the  subject  with  Mr.  Colby  might  prove  to  be  a  mis 
take.  So,  after  a  moment,  she  said  simply,  "  Yes  — 
it  all  interests  me  very  much  —  particularly  the  candle 
stick.  Shall  I  have  to  wait  long  for  it?  " 

"  I  have  a  bad  memory,  but  the  flower  will  help  me 
to  remember  this  time,"  he  said. 

And  just  here  the  bridge  game  ended  itself,  and  the 
party  gathered  together  about  the  fragrant  wood  fire 
for  a  little  while,  before  someone  insisted  it  was  time, 
and  long  past  time,  to  go. 

Mr.  Colby  took  the  St.  Johns  home  in  his  roadster, 
and  the  other  men  decided  to  walk  —  it  was  such  an 
exceptionally  clear,  nice  night.  So,  after  a  diverting 
evening,  they  all  left,  calling  back  their  good  nights  to 
the  lovely  woman  in  the  doorway. 

Eleanor  wandered  restlessly  about  a  few  moments, 
and  then  went  over  to  close  the  piano.  Mr.  Barton 
Colby  had  forgotten  the  orchid  —  just  like  a  man. 
The  lady  held  it,  now  wilted  somewhat,  and  tried  to 
decide  whether  she  was  disappointed  at  the  boy's  in 
difference,  or  relieved  that  he  did  not  take  it,  and  pos 
sibly  have  some  fun  with  it  that  might  —  might  what? 
What  matter  was  it,  really,  whether  he  took  it  or  not? 
But  about  those  single  orchids  at  No.  5  Quartz  Club 
Building  —  who  or  what  was  back  of  them,  and  what 
concern  could  it  possibly  be  of  hers,  Eleanor  asked  her 
self. 

Then  she  collected  the  ash-receivers  and  emptied 
them.  She  seemed  to  require  some  kind  of  activity. 


170       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

In  replacing  the  tray  that  belonged  on  her  desk,  she 
dropped  into  a  chair  there,  staring  and  tired.  "  It's 
all  very  well  when  someone  is  here,"  she  said  to  her 
self,  sadly.  "  It's  all  as  pretty  and  gay  and  sweet  as 
can  be,  then.  But  when  the  party  is  broken  up  and 
gone  away  —  away  down  this  hill  —  how  unbearably 
still  it  is !  "  And  she  threw  herself  forward  onto  her 
arms,  on  the  opened  leaf  of  the  desk,  but  the  unex 
pected  chill  of  the  nickel-plated  telephone  instrument 
standing  there,  made  itself  felt  on  her  cheek,  and  she 
slowly  raised  herself  again,  and  looked  at  the  thing. 

She  drew  it  to  her  and  studied  it  as  though  there 
were  just  the  chance  it  might  be  able  to  answer  ques 
tions.  Like  someone  acting  from  an  impulse  and  an 
energy  not  within  herself,  perhaps  as  though  she  were 
a  tool  of  fate,  she  deliberately  registered  1692. 

It  was  late,  and  she  knew  it  was  not  the  thing  to  do, 
but  a  force  from  somewhere  ran  down  into  her  hand, 
and  she  pressed  the  button  that  rang  the  bell  at  No.  5 
Quartz  Club  Building. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  the  sleepy  and  none  too 
pleased  voice  of  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  replied. 

The  brown  eyes  that  belonged  on  the  top  of  Copper 
Hill,  were  closed,  and  an  accurate  hand  silently  slipped 
the  receiver  back  into  its  hook.  Somebody  was  with 
out  words.  When  she  buried  her  tired  head  in  her 
arms  the  second  time,  she  did  not  rise  for  a  long  while. 
She  had  heard  the  voice  she  wanted  to  hear  —  heard 
it  storming  because  it  got  no  answer !  —  and  she  was 
very  still  so  that  the  memory  of  it  might  stay. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

'TpHE  next  morning  found  Eleanor  tired  and  very 
-••  nervous,  but  determined,  withal,  for  she  had 
reached  several  decisions.  One  of  them  was  to  keep 
out-of-doors  more.  She  would  ride  —  somebody  had 
told  her  that  Me.  Queene  had  some  excellent  horses, 
and  she  had  brought  her  own  saddle  with  her.  She 
had  stopped  riding  when  all  her  other  old  interests  had 
ceased  to  divert  her. 

Yes,  she  would  ride  —  she  would  send  for  a  horse 
this  very  day !  But  so  many  references  had  been  made 
in  her  hearing  to  how  unsafe  it  was  for  a  woman  to 
venture  far  from  the  Camp  alone,  that  she  hesitated  a 
moment.  But  something  she  had  forgotten  now  oc 
curred  to  her  —  the  renegade's  pistol. 

She  pulled  open  the  drawer  in  which  she  had  put  the 
thing,  and  she  took  it  out  and  looked  it  over,  sus 
piciously.  It  was  a  weapon  of  standard  make,  not  too 
heavy,  and  it  carried  a  medium-sized  bullet,  plenty 
large  enough  to  do  its  work.  Never  having  handled 
a  revolver,  Eleanor  was  a  shade  apologetic  in  her  atti 
tude  toward  this  one  —  she  seemed  worried  lest  it  turn 
around  and  look  at  her,  or  something.  She  stepped 
out  onto  the  porch  and  pointing  at  the  ground  a  few 
feet  away,  she  closed  her  eyes  and  snapped  the  trigger, 
smiling  at  the  possibility  of  alarming  Martha.  But 
there  was  no  report.  Then  she  examined  it  more 
freely,  discovering  that  it  was  quite  empty  and  very 
dirty,  and  she  found  out  how  one  loaded  it.  Suddenly 

171 


172       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

she  recalled  a  shop  just  off  the  main  street  of  the  town 
where  there  were  firearms  in  the  window  and  hunting 
knives  and  such  things,  so  she  went  into  the  house, 
slipped  the  gun  into  a  hand  bag,  and  made  herself  ready 
for  the  street  and  a  walk  in  the  good  sunshine. 

The  young  man  at  the  sporting  goods  place,  seemed 
most  reluctant  to  sell  the  lady  a  whole  box  of  bullets  — 
he  plainly  showed  he  wondered  if  she  wouldn't  be  do 
ing  enough  damage  with  one  or  two.  And  as  he  oblig 
ingly  explained  to  her  the  weapon  she  laid  down  on 
the  counter,  he  noted  that  she  wore  black  and  looked 
terribly  pathetic  and  serious,  and  he  thought  of  lot  of 
things  including  prospective  suicides.  The  mischievous 
girl  caught  his  feeling  of  apprehension,  and  amused 
herself  by  asking  him  all  sorts  of  disturbing  questions 
—  what  was  the  best  place  to  aim  at  when  one  wanted 
to  stop  a  man,  but  not  kill  him;  was  it  true  that 
when  one  sent  a  bullet  into  the  roof  of  the  mouth, 
the  result  was  permanent,  and  several  other  little 
things  that  naturally  would  not  add  to  the  clerk's  com 
fort. 

Eleanor  learned  that  one  might  practice  shooting 
anywhere  a  mile  outside  of  the  "  city  limits  "  without 
fear  of  arrest.  And,  oh  yes !  of  course  one  was  sup 
posed  to  get  a  permit  to  carry  concealed  weapons,  but 
the  clerk  "  bet "  he  could  round  up  ten  men  in  twenty 
minutes  who  had  carried  guns  for  years  and  who  never 
consulted  the  chief  of  police  —  before  they  got  into 
trouble.  He  didn't  think  the  lady  need  bother  about 
anybody's  permission  to  do  what  she  liked. 

And  when  the  new  customer  left  the  shop,  the  clerk 
resolved  to  read  all  the  horrors  in  to-morrow's  papers, 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        173 

and  he  sincerely  hoped  there  would  not  be  any  brown 
eyes  mixed  up  in  them. 

As  for  Eleanor,  she  went  straight  home  with  an 
additional  purchase  of  a  tube  of  white  vaseline  and  a 
box  of  absorbent  cotton.  And  once  inside,  she  went 
to  the  kitchen  for  some  silver  polish,  and  returned  to 
her  desk  by  way  of  her  own  room  where  she  got  a  lot 
of  small  things  that  might  do  as  ramrods,  but  which 
didn't  help  as  much  as  her  hat  pin,  after  all;  and  then, 
turning  her  toes  in  in  her  intense  interest,  she  cleaned 
up  the  revolver  and  loaded  it. 

Martha  came  in  to  lay  the  luncheon  table,  and  asked 
the  lady  the  same  little  question  twice  before  she  no 
ticed  her,  and  then  what  she  said  had  no  bearing  upon 
the  things  Martha  wanted  to  know.  "  Martha," 
Eleanor  began,  not  looking  up,  "  you  know,  don't  you, 
that  Dr.  LeRoy  is  nearer  me  and  my  affairs  than  any 
body  else?  You  remember  I  asked  you  to  write  down 
his  New  York  address  in  the  back  of  the  cook  book? 
Well,  don't  forget  where  to  find  it,  if  you  ever  need  it. 
And  Martha,  you'd  better  get  back  in  the  kitchen  until 
I  finish  fooling  with  this  thing  —  it  might  go  off  any 
time.  I  am  going  to  be  a  dangerous  wild-and-woolly 
Westerner!  " 

u  I  guess  it's  safe  enough  until  you  put  back  those 
bullets  you  just  took  out,  isn't  it?  "  grimly  asked  the 
maid. 

"  Well,"  remarked  her  mistress,  wisely,  :<  you 
mustn't  forget  that  more  people  are  killed  annually, 
Martha,  with  so  called  *  unloaded '  guns,  than  die  in 
open  fight.  Aren't  you  scared  stiff?" 

"  No,  Mrs.  Evan." 


174       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

At  two  o'clock  that  afternoon,  there  was  a  boy  out 
side  putting  Eleanor's  saddle  and  bridle  on  a  very  good- 
looking  horse,  while  inside  the  lady  was  holding  a 
loaded  weapon  and  looking  a  little  helpless.  It  was  a 
problem  to  know  what  to  do  with  the  gun,  for  she  had 
no  holster,  and  she  would  have  been  ashamed  to  hang 
it  from  her  belt,  probably,  if  she  had  had  one.  She 
thought  of  the  little  pocket  under  the  pommel  on  the 
right  side  of  her  conventional  side-saddle  —  but  she 
well  knew  it  was  too  small  to  hold  a  big  pistol.  She 
had  only  one  available  pocket  in  her  habit  —  a  tiny 
breast  pocket  for  her  handkerchief,  the  other  pockets 
being  sewed  up,  so  that  she  should  never  be  tempted  to 
carry  anything  in  them  and  spoil  the  lines  of  her  coat. 
But  if  she  went  out  for  a  ride  that  pistol  was  going  too, 
so  there ! 

In  a  moment  Martha  appeared  to  see  her  mistress 
looking  vaguely  amused,  and  most  attractive  in  her  rid 
ing  skirt,  buttoned  up  for  walking,  smart  boots,  well- 
cut  coat  and  three-cornered  hat  and  a  bar  of  pearls 
in  her  stock.  In  her  hands  were  her  gloves  and  her 
whip. 

"  Martha,"  she  began  seriously,  "  do  you  notice  any 
thing  peculiar  about  me?  " 

The  maid  looked  her  over  carefully,  and  replied 
solemnly,  "  No,  Mrs.  Evan,  nothing." 

"  Now  look  well,  Martha !  Don't  I  suggest  more 
weight  on  one  side  than  the  other?  " 

The  mystified  Martha  glanced  at  her  shoulders  and 
hips  and  feet,  and  gravely  answered,  "  No,  madame." 

"  Now  Martha,  honestly,  don't  I  give  the  general 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        175 

impression  of  going  in  for  false  pretences  some  way  or 
other?" 

Martha  would  not  have  smiled  to  have  saved  any 
body's  life  —  she  hadn't  for  years  so  forgotten  herself 
—  but  she  was  tolerant  of  her  little  charge's  playful 
ness,  and  politely  replied,  "  No,  Mrs.  Evan,  you  look 
perfectly  square  to  me." 

"  Well,  Martha,  if  anybody  told  you  I  had  a  gun 
on  me,  where  would  you  say  I  carried  it?  " 

The  maid  studied  the  smiling,  girlish  creature  before 
her,  mentally  estimating  how  much  room  there  was  in 
the  crown  of  her  hat,  then  she  quietly  announced,  "  If 
you've  got  that  pistol  with  you,  I  should  say  you  had 
eaten  it,  Mrs.  Evan." 

"  Thank  you,  Martha !  "  gaily  laughed  Eleanor. 
"  I  feel  much  easier  now,  but  I  want  to  say  one  or  two 
things  before  I  start  out.  In  the  first  place,  Martha, 
if  I  am  brought  in  here,  shot  in  the  foot,  I  don't  want 
any  local  surgeon  chopping  it  off  —  I'll  take  my  chances 
with  blood  poisoning.  I  have  that  gun  in  my  left  boot 
on  the  outside,  and  its  cold  nose  is  right  down  on  my 
ankle  bone,  and  it  makes  me  feel  rather  crowded.  But 
you  won't  worry  about  me,  will  you,  Martha?" 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,  Mrs.  Evan,"  stoically  prom 
ised  the  maid. 

The  stable  boy  outside  thought  the  new  lady  in  town 
was  queer  about  starting  off.  She  refused  to  allow  him 
to  give  her  a  hand  up,  but  instead,  she  led  the  horse 
around  to  the  back  of  the  place  and  mounted  from  an 
old  keg  while  he  held  the  beast  at  the  bit.  She  said 
she  liked  to  get  on  alone,  and  she  would  not  permit 


176       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

him  or  Martha,  either,  to  pull  her  skirt  into  place  — 
she  seemed  to  be  watchful  for  the  worst. 

"Do  I  seem  all  right,  Martha?"  she  called  back, 
meaningly,  to  the  serious  person  in  the  doorway. 

"  Fine !  "  reported  Martha. 

Then  with  a  smile,  and  the  spirit  of  a  true  horse* 
woman,  she  directed  "  Nickel  "  as  the  boy  had  called 
the  handsome  horse,  toward  the  valley  which  ran  down 
west  of  the  camp,  disappearing  over  the  back  of  Cop 
per  Hill. 

It  had  been  a  long  time  since  she  had  had  a  ride  — • 
and  my!  but  it  sent  the  glad  blood  dancing  through  her 
as  she  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  went  off  at  a 
gallop ! 

At  the  end  of  two  hours,  a  horse  and  his  rider  were 
seen  starting  up  the  town  side  of  Copper  Hill,  quieted 
down  a  little,  but  not  too  tired. 

Martha,  who  had  stationed  herself  at  one  of  the 
front  windows  to  watch  for  her  gentle  mistress,  sighed 
a  sigh  of  relief  and  went  back  to  the  kitchen  so  that 
she  might  appear  as  ungracious  and  unfeeling  as  ever 
—  though  she  found  more  than  her  usual  difficulty  in 
hiding  her  true  devotion. 

"  Did  you  worry  about  me,  Martha?  "  sweetly  asked 
the  lady  as  she  slipped  off  the  horse  at  the  back  door, 
conscious  of  her  knees  which  seemed  uncertain  after  the 
first  ride  in  so  long. 

"  No,  Mrs.  Evan,"  answered  the  maid,  unemotion 
ally. 

"  I  wager  you  did,  and  that  you  just  won't  own  it !  " 
gaily  retorted  the  little  woman,  coming  in  and  watch- 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       177 

ing  Martha  struggle  to  tie  Nickel  to  the  clothes-line 
post,  and  showing  she  prayed  he  might  be  decent 
enough  not  to  step  on  her. 

Martha  was  too  much  engaged  to  notice  this  banter, 
so  the  lady  went  on,  "  You  ought  to  have  seen  me  prac 
ticing  marksmanship,  Martha  —  nothing  like  it  was 
ever  seen  before,  even  in  Buffalo  Bill's  show!  I  tied 
Nickel  to  a  stake  that  marked  out  a  mining  claim,  and 
then  I  put  a  tin  can  on  a  rock  and  aimed  at  it. 
Gracious !  It  gave  me  a  start !  But  Nickel  didn't 
seem  to  mind  at  all,  and  later  I  shot  from  his  back,  and 
he  didn't  resent  it  in  the  least.  Possibly  he  has  been 
used  in  hunting,  or  else  he  is  a  real  Westerner.  It  was 
quite  exciting,  really  —  1  expected  a  posse  of  deputies 
and  things  such  as  one  reads  about  in  magazine  stories, 
to  dash  up  in  a  cloud  of  dust  and  arrest  me,  and  I  was 
horribly  disappointed  when  nothing  happened,  and  the 
only  teamster  that  went  by  on  that  lonely  road  simply 
turned  and  grinned  at  me." 

"  Did  you  hit  anything?  "  sceptically  asked  Martha, 
dodging  the  friendly,  sniffling  nose  of  the  horse,  having 
completed  a  knot  that  it  would  take  a  burglar  to  get 
into. 

"  Oh  my,  yes !  "  proudly  Eleanor  assured  her.  "  I 
hit  the  side  of  the  mountain,  and  the  middle  of  the  road 
and  a  deserted  shaft-house  and  various  other  small  ob 
jects  !  But  it  won't  be  long  until  I  can  get  the  can,  and 
it's  crowds  of  fun.  By  the  way,  Martha,  when  the  boy 
comes,  tell  him  I  want  him  to  take  my  saddle  to  a  har 
ness  maker's  and  have  a  new  pig's  skin  pocket  put  on 
where  the  little  one  is  now  —  twice  the  size  of  that 
one,  you  understand.  I  shall  carry  the  revolver  in  it 


178       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

in  the  future.  And  tell  him  to  bring  the  same  horse 
every  day,  unless  I  notify  him  to  the  contrary,  no  mat 
ter  what  the  weather  is." 

"  Yes,  madame,"  Martha  acknowledged  her  instruc 
tions,  as  together  they  closed  the  kitchen  door,  having 
cooled  off  the  house  pretty  thoroughly  without  mean 
ing  to  do  so. 

Eleanor  went  straight  through  to  the  fireplace  in  the 
big  room,  but  no  sooner  had  she  sunk  onto  the  divan, 
than  the  old  dread  of  being  too  much  alone  came  upon 
her.  She  had  had  a  respite  from  her  mental  suffering, 
but  now  it  faced  her  afresh,  and  while  she  could  not 
have  placed  her  dread  to  any  one  thought  or  circum 
stance,  still  the  old,  dull  pain  was  at  her  again  —  and 
she  was  tired,  and  the  pain  was  rested. 

There  is  a  natural  drop  from  a  happy,  bright  party 
one  evening,  to  a  silent  dinner  by  oneself,  the  next. 
Ah !  She  had  the  solution  ready  —  she  would  not  eat ! 
But,  on  second  thoughts,  she  knew  this  would  never  do 
—  it  signified  surrender  and  it  mocked  her  for  her 
weakness.  No,  she  would  face  it  squarely  —  it  would 
be  no  better  to-morrow  or  the  day  after,  or  the  day 
after  that,  perhaps. 

Someone  to  dine  with  her?  Oh,  the  idea  was  all  very 
well,  she  told  herself  sarcastically,  but  had  she  not  ex 
hausted  her  list  of  possibilities  last  evening?  She 
glanced  at  the  backs  of  the  well-bound  volumes  of  the 
works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  "  I  wonder,"  she  mur 
mured,  "  if  I  would  be  in  any  better  condition  to  com 
bat  the  attacks  life  makes  on  us  poor  mortals,  if  I  had 
waded  through  all  that  good  literature  at  the  age  when 
one  has  the  patience  and  the  time  to  do  it?  Well  — 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        179 

it's  too  late  now  —  anything  but  such  an  alternative 
for  me !  " 

Sir  Walter  having  failed  to  offer  comfort,  the  rest 
less  brown  eyes  roved  still  farther  on  around  the  room 
—  and  stopped  at  the  one  photograph  on  the  piano. 
The  lady  sprang  to  her  feet,  saying  aloud,  "  Now  the 
matter  is  settled  —  and  I  am  beaten  and  proved  to  be 
a  coward.  I  cannot  stay  alone."  And  at  the  same  in 
stant  a  way  out  of  her  difficulties  presented  itself. 

She  picked  up  the  telephone  directory.  "  Now  let 
me  see !  "  she  thought.  "  Would  the  number  be  apt 
to  be  under  her  own  name,  or  her  aunt's?  The  logical 
man-mind  would  refer  us  to  our  own  observations. 
Therefore,  let  us  turn  to  the  NTs.  Here  we  are! 
Montgomery,  Miss  Stella,  Bryn  Mawr  Avenue  —  yes. 
1418  —  oh,  very  well!  And  I  did  not  have  to  have 
read  forty-seven  volumes  of  Scott  to  find  it,  either!  " 

Miss  Montgomery  answered  the  call,  herself,  and  if 
Eleanor  had  anticipated  running  into  any  indications  of 
resentment  on  the  part  of  that  young  woman  because 
she  had  not  been  asked  to  the  dinner  the  evening  be 
fore,  she  soon  found  she  was  mistaken.  Miss  Stella 
Montgomery  expressed  herself  sincerely  as  being 
charmed  to  dine  alone  with  her  that  night  at  seven. 

"  That  will  be  very  nice,"  pleasantly  assented  the 
prospective  hostess.  "  We  shall  have  a  most  exclusive 
gathering  then!  It  is  good  of  you  to  come  so  in 
formally  —  I  can't  say  how  much  I  appreciate  it.  I 
will  have  a  carriage  at  your  door  at  a  quarter  to  seven. 
Until  then,  thank  you,  and  good  luck !  " 

Eleanor  started  for  her  room  to  take  off  the  habit 
and  slip  into  a  flowing  robe  for  a  little  rest  before  it 


i8o       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

was  time  to  dress.  In  passing  the  neat  row  of  books 
that  always  met  her  wherever  she  went,  a  silent  re 
minder  of  the  many  things  she  ought  to  have  done,  yet 
had  not  done,  she  smiled  faintly,  saying,  "  Another 
time,  Sir  Walter,  though  I  know  we  shall  be  forced  to 
meet  each  other  nearer,  yet  And  now  my  natural  in 
genuity  has  taken  the  place  of  learning  again,  and 
helped  me  to  thwart  fate  once  more.  I  shall  not  dine 
alone  • —  thank  heaven !  " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AS  the  dinner  hour  approached,  Eleanor  stood  ir 
resolute,  her  hand  on  the  knob  of  the  closet  door. 
"  I  can't  decide  what  to  wear  on  this  remarkable  oc 
casion,"  she  informed  herself.  "  I  should  say  the  best 
thing  would  be  a  suit  of  armour,  but  alas!  I  haven't 
one.  However,  velvet  is  thick."  And  she  drew  forth 
a  simple  pale  grey  gown,  made  in  long,  unbroken 
lines.  In  one  light  the  fabric  seemed  to  be  plain,  soft 
velvet,  yet  in  another,  it  transformed  itself  into  a 
sheet  of  tiny  silver  stripes.  The  transparent  sleeves 
were  of  silver  lace,  and  the  low  cut  neck  was  finished 
by  some  sort  of  silver  fluff  held  in  place  by  a  great 
cloth-of-silver  rose  with  a  solitaire  diamond  in  its  heart. 

Eleanor  soon  stepped  into  the  big  room,  worlds  more 
excited  than  she  was  before  last  evening's  guests  ar 
rived,  for  some  reason  she  could  not  explain  to  herself. 
If  anything  ever  made  Eleanor's  cheeks  pink,  the  idea 
of  dining  alone  with  this  new  acquaintance  who  half 
attracted  her  and  half  repelled  her,  would  have  done 
so,  but  she  was  always  white,  although  her  eyes  grew 
deeper  and  browner  under  the  stress,  and  her  sensitive 
mouth  was  smiling,  in  spite  of  her  nervousness. 

Miss  Montgomery  was  punctual,  and  as  Martha 
opened  the  door,  she  swept  into  the  room  in  a  hand 
some  white  opera  cape  and  a  vast,  gorgeous  black  hat, 
both  of  which  she  removed  instantly  and  handed  to 
Martha,  with  the  calm  assurance  of  a  woman  who  has 
dressed  at  home,  and  knows  that  fussing  with  hand 

181 


i8a       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

mirrors  and  powder  puffs  in  other  people's  houses  can 
not  improve  her. 

She  and  Eleanor  met  at  the  fireplace  and  shook 
hands  —  firmly,  but  wonderingly. 

Miss  Montgomery  had  by  intention  or  accident, 
dressed  as  nearly  after  the  style  preferred  by  her 
hostess  as  her  wardrobe  permitted.  She  was  all  that 
was  commanding  in  a  black  satin  gown,  her  only  orna 
ments  being  long,  black  onyx  ear-rings  and  one  —  only 
one  —  splendid,  daring  red  rose. 

The  two  opposite  types  of  women  of  infinitely  dif 
ferent  traditions  and  environment,  and  natures  remote 
from  each  other,  made  an  interesting  picture  as  they 
stood  together  before  the  burning  logs.  They  were 
of  about  the  same  height,  which  surprised  them  both, 
for  Miss  Montgomery  always  seemed  very  tall,  and 
the  world  had  always  used  the  word  "  little  "  when 
speaking  of  Eleanor  —  the  diminutive  adjective  prob 
ably  being  suggested  by  her  delicacy  of  feature  and 
plaintiveness  of  manner,  rather  than  by  her  stature  it 
self. 

To  glance  at  the  hostess  and  her  guest  one  would 
naturally  suppose  the  sounds  around  them  to  consist  of 
those  of  a  city  street,  outside;  and  inside,  the  faint 
strains  of  an  orchestra  and  voices.  But  here,  besides 
their  own  commonplaces,  there  was  no  sound  except 
that  of  a  long  train  of  ore  cars  madly  rushing  by  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  on  its  way  to  the  smelters  down  the  val- 
ley. 

Martha  appeared  with  a  tiny  tray  and  two  glasses. 

uOh?"     gasped    Miss     Montgomery.     "A    real 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        183 

party?     But  how  did  you  know  I   ever  indulged?  " 

"  I  didn't  know,  exactly,"  laughed  Eleanor,  "  I  just 
took  the  chance." 

And  it  could  hardly  have  been  said  to  reflect  unusual 
powers  of  discernment  to  have  taken  this  risk,  for  there 
was  nothing  about  Miss  Montgomery,  certainly,  to 
suggest  the  ingenue.  She  did  not  look  old,  to  be  sure, 
but  she  did  give  the  impression  of  being  versed  in  a 
number  of  things,  among  which  might  be  unkindly  men 
tioned  the  possible  use  of  rouge.  The  Camp,  when  it 
wearied  of  quarrelling  over  Miss  Montgomery's  age, 
always  reverted  to  her  colour  and  to  the  alleged  devo 
tion  of  Messrs.  Mansfield  Crawford  Kerr  and  Carl 
Heilberg  "  in  the  good  old  days." 

The  Camp  never  got  anywhere  in  particular  on  either 
theme. 

"What  a  lovely  rose  you  are  wearing!  "  ventured 
Eleanor  as  they  went  over  to  the  dining  table. 

"Isn't  it?"  remarked  Miss  Montgomery.  "I 
adore  one  rose.  I  have  never  heard  of  another  woman 
who  was  silly  enough  to  insist  that  her  friends  send  her 
just  one  flower,  instead  of  a  huge  box  of  them,  which 
most  men  want  to  do." 

At  this  very  moment,  there  was  one  flower  lying  on 
the  piano  in  front  of  the  one  photograph  there,  and 
Eleanor  instantly  thought  of  it,  and  resolved,  some 
way  or  other,  to  get  it  out  of  sight  before  Miss  Mont 
gomery's  penetrating  blue  eyes  discovered  it.  She 
hardly  knew  why. 

The  dinner  started  off  better  than  the  hostess  had 
hoped,  when  Miss  Montgomery  looked  up  from  her 


1 84       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

bouillon,  and  said  evidently  with  genuine  feeling,  "  I 
am  so  glad  you  asked  me  to-night,  Mrs.  Evanston,  in 
stead  of  last  night." 

Apparently  everybody  in  town  knew  about  last  night ! 

This  was  a  subject,  however,  the  hostess,  herself, 
would  have  avoided,  but  seeing  there  was  nothing  to 
fear  from  it,  she  smiled  back,  "  Are  you  —  why?  " 

"  Oh,"  began  Miss  Stella  Montgomery,  thought 
fully,  "how  can  I  express  it?  I  suppose  when  we 
reach  the  milestone  in  life  when  we  are  asked  to  the 
big  entertainments,  or  to  small  affairs  to  fill  in  at  the 
last  moment  '  for  old  times'  sake,'  we  are  apt  to  notice 
a  special  attention.  Being  asked  here,  alone,  is  some 
thing  like  receiving  one  rose  —  it  stands  for  some 
thing." 

It  has  never  failed  yet  that  when  two  persons  are 
given  the  chance,  they  try,  instinctively,  to  get  at  the 
things  in  each  other's  heads  that  pique  their  interest  — 
one  or  the  other  becomes  personal  in  preference  to  re 
maining  in  cold,  good  form.  It  is  always  so ;  therefore, 
it  was  true  this  time,  but  it  came  a  little  sooner  than 
the  hostess  expected  it,  and  she  didn't  have  an  answer 
where  she  could  reach  out  and  get  it  quickly.  This  hap 
pens  sometimes,  too. 

Miss  Montgomery,  having  made  what  seemed  to  be 
an  effective  start,  went  on,  not  rudely,  but  with  cold 
humour  and  disarming  directness,  "  What  this  cosy  little 
dinner  stands  for,  I  have  not  yet  fathomed." 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  any  deep-laid  plot,  Miss 
Montgomery,"  Eleanor  lightly  rippled  back,  having 
got  her  breath  again,  "  but  I  suggest  that  your  being 
asked  alone,  stands  for  selfishness  as  much  as  anything. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        185 

I  did  not  want  anyone  else,  so  I  have  inflicted  myself 
upon  you  without  relief.  Your  taking  such  a  sweet 
view  of  it,  however,  quite  embarrasses  me!  " 

"  I  won't  say  anything  more  about  it,  then,"  the  blond 
girl  promised.  "  But  I  could  not  help  wondering,  you 
see,  for  new  people  rarely  like  me,  and  the  old  ones 
are  more  or  less  tired  of  me,  having  found  out  all  there 
is  to  know  about  me,  a  long  time  ago." 

This  sad  little  truth  all  dressed  up  in  the  becoming 
garb  of  a  humorous  inflection,  was  surely  not  made  as 
an  invitation  to  Eleanor  to  take  it  up  and  contradict  it. 
It  was  impersonal  in  its  tone  —  quite  as  much  so  as  any 
passing  comment  on  the  weather  or  humanity  in  general. 

A  smile  was  all  that  the  hostess  thought  best  to  award 
this  remark,  but  she  chose  the  small  opening  that  it 
afforded  to  say,  "  You  have  always  had  wonderfully 
good  times  out  here,  haven't  you?  I  have  been  most 
amused  by  the  few  snatches  of  reminiscence  I  have 
caught.  The  extraordinary  Mr.  Heilberg,  for  in 
stance,  appeals  to  one's  imagination.  You  knew  him, 
of  course?  " 

"  Oh  my,  yes!  "  Miss  Montgomery  owned,  with  the 
Camp  smile  —  the  one  everybody  wore  when  Heil- 
berg's  name  was  mentioned  —  his  friends  from  habit 
and  his  enemies  because  they  were  ashamed  to  be  dis 
tinguished  from  his  friends  by  frowning  and  thus  show 
ing  how  easy  they  had  been  in  "  dear  old  Carl's  "  shrewd 
clutches. 

"And  was  he  fascinating?"  Eleanor  wished  to 
know. 

"  He  certainly  was,  and  doubtless  still  is!  "  stoutly 
the  girl  defended  him. 


1 86       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  Why?  "  Eleanor  next  persisted. 

"  I  hardly  know  why,"  Miss  Montgomery  replied. 
"  Possibly  one  reason  is  that  he  was  so  awfully  bad  and 
so  sweet  about  it.  He  did  everything  a  man  ought  not 
to  do.  He  lived  as  he  liked,  which  was  not  in  accord 
ance  with  the  way  everybody  thought  he  ought  to  be 
have.  He  set  a  miserable  example  which  many  of  our 
promising  young  men  have  thought  it  smart  to  follow, 
utterly  lacking  his  force  to  see  it  through  successfully; 
but  everybody  had  to  tolerate  Carl." 

"  Why  did  they?  "  gently  urged  the  hostess. 

Miss  Montgomery  reflected  before  answering;  then, 
without  the  least  intention  of  being  funny,  she  earnestly 
explained,  "  Well,  you  see  out  here,  about  the  only 
things  you  can  go  in  for,  are  a  good  time  and  the  al 
mighty  dollar  —  and  if  you  stop  to  get  squeamish  at 
every  turn,  you  don't  get  either." 

"  I  see,"  laughed  Eleanor.  "  And  this  reminds  me 
of  another  characteristic  I  have  been  told  exists  here. 
Is  it  really  true  that  in  the  West  —  I  mean  such  a  place 
as  this  in  the  West  —  people  take  no  liberties  with  the 
old  instinct  of  curiosity?  For  instance,  is  it  true  that 
a  man  can  turn  up  in  this  town,  join  the  clubs,  attend  to 
business  and  accept  the  hospitalities  of  the  representa 
tive  women  —  and  never  be  asked  about  his  family, 
provided  he  does  not  volunteer  any  information  con 
cerning  himself?  " 

Again  Miss  Montgomery  deliberated,  finally  reply 
ing,  "  My  opinion  on  this  matter,  if  it  is  worth  giving, 
Mrs.  Evanston,  is  that  people  are  akin  to  each  other, 
no  matter  where  they  live.  In  the  early  days  of  the 
mining  districts,  it  seems  to  have  been  the  fashion  not 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        187 

to  ask  too  many  questions  —  at  least  so  the  modern 
writers  of  short  stories  tell  us.  Our  grandparents  who 
came  over  the  plains  in  the  fifties  and  sixties  in  '  prairie 
schooners  '  left  us,  among  their  other  failures,  this  bit 
of  etiquette,  and  we  of  the  present  generation  take  all 
of  the  pride  in  the  idea  —  and  accept  none  of  the  re 
sponsibilities.  Of  course  we  ask  questions!  But 
why?" 

"  Well,"  hesitated  Eleanor,  "  it  seems  odd  to  bring 
up  the  subject  with  so  new  a  friend  as  yourself,  but  — 
but  if  you  don't  mind,  I  should  like  to  put  a  case  before 
you?" 

"  Do  !  "  smiled  Miss  Montgomery,  encouragingly. 

"  When  I  arrived  in  this  place,"  she  plunged  right 
into  what  she  had  to  say  without  further  introductory 
remarks,  "  I  let  a  small  matter  slide  along  that  now  I 
wish  very  much  I  had  set  right  in  the  beginning.  In  a 
way  it  is  a  joke,  but  still  I  should  like  to  have  somebody 
understand.  I  have  fancied  I  have  caught  a  few  symp 
toms  of  uneasiness  concerning  myself  in  this  com 
munity,  and  with  that  spirit  of  perversity  that  is  in  us 
all,  more  or  less  I  suppose,  I  have  got  some  bits  of 
quiet  fun  out  of  the  various  pit-falls  arranged  for  me." 

Miss  Montgomery  was  keenly  alive  to  what  might 
follow,  but  she  patiently  waited  for  her  hostess  to  tell 
her  as  much  or  as  little  as  pleased  her,  and  she  made  no 
attempt  whatever  to  hurry  her  into  saying  more  than 
she  would,  if  let  alone.  Miss  Montgomery  smiled  her 
interest,  or  as  much  of  her  interest  as  she  cared  to  show 
—  and  took  another  piece  of  bread,  when  she  already 
had  two  and  never  ate  bread,  anyway. 

Eleanor  cleared  her  throat  and  started  again.     "  As 


i88       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

I  said,"  she  went  on,  "  when  I  first  came  out  here,  it  was 
all  very  hurried  and  spontaneous,  some  way.  My  doc 
tor  had  been  trying  to  get  me  to  take  a  change  for 
months,  and  one  day  I  just  —  well,  just  moved  I  I 
could  have  brought  letters  —  in  fact  I  had  them  offered 
me  but  refused  them,  thinking  that  I  was  in  no  state  of 
mind  to  care  to  meet  people  socially.  My  idea  seemed 
to  be  to  get  a  cottage  and  keep  to  myself,  but  I  soon 
discovered  this  promised  to  be  almost  too  much  vaca 
tion  for  my  sanity  —  I  could  not  live  this  way;  and  I 
have,  in  one  way  or  another  met  several  of  the  persons 
to  whom  I  really  ought  to  have  brought  an  introduction. 

"  But  to  go  on !  I  arrived  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  something  having  gone  wrong  on  the  track 
ahead  of  us,  keeping  us  hours  not  twenty  miles  out  of 
the  Camp.  I  was  ill  with  a  dreadful  headache,  and  the 
night  clerk  at  the  hotel  seeing  I  was  on  the  verge  of 
fainting,  asked  if  he  should  register  for  me,  and  I  said 
yes.  The  next  day  I  was  able  to  come  down  for  dinner, 
and  I  then  discovered  that  he  had  written  my  name  as 
everybody  here  seems  to  pronounce  it,  Evanston,  al 
though  I  remember  telling  him  it  was  two  names  hy 
phenated.  It  didn't  strike  me  as  being  serious  at  the 
time,  and  I  went  up-stairs  and  forgot  all  about  it.  It 
doesn't  make  any  difference  about  the  tradespeople,  you 
know,  because  I  don't  run  any  bills,  and  as  long  as  the 
groceries  get  up  here  on  time,  it  matters  very  little 
whether  that  hyphen  comes  along,  or  not.  But  I  no 
tice  you  all  have  taken  for  granted  it  is  Evanston,  and 
if  you  can  conceive  of  anything  so  silly,  I  find  I  am 
avoiding  leaving  a  visiting  card  when  I  make  a  call." 

"  This  is  amusing,"  Miss  Montgomery  remarked. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        189 

"  Also  it  is  very  nice  of  you  to  speak  to  me  about  it. 
But  why  do  you  choose  me,  I  wonder?  " 

"  Because  you  have  not  tried  to  place  me,  possibly," 
Eleanor  frankly  answered,  "  and  also  because  I  believe 
you  can  advise  me  what  to  do.  You  know  these  people, 
and  now  that  you  understand  the  situation,  you  can  help 
me.  What  would  you  do  —  try  to  correct  everybody 
at  this  late  day,  or  just  let  the  inaccuracy  slide  along  for 
the  short  time  I  shall  live  among  you  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  feel  about  it,  yourself?  "  cautiously 
asked  Miss  Montgomery. 

"Why  —  I  feel  slightly  flat,  I  suppose,  but  hardly 
criminal.  It  is  such  a  shade  of  difference  anyway,  and 
stupidly  having  already  allowed  myself  to  become  iden 
tified  as  Mrs.  Evanston  —  which  really  is  the  way  I 
pronounce  it  myself,  you  know  —  it  does  seem  strain 
ing  a  point  to  make  anything  of  it.  The  only  thing  is 
that  it  looks  different  when  properly  written.  It  is  a 
vague  little  mix-up,  you  see,  but  everyone  has  been  so 
friendly  and  unusually  kind,  that  I  would  not  for  the 
world  do  anything  that  might  confuse  their  attitude  to 
ward  me  or  arouse  a  flurry  of  suspicion.  Foolish,  all 
around,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Who  knows  how  you  write  your  name?  "  shrewdly 
asked  Miss  Montgomery. 

14  Why  —  everybody  everywhere  else,  of  course ! 
But  here,  you  know,  I  know  and  my  maid  knows,  al 
though  she  always  calls  me  *  Mrs.  Evan  '  herself,  be 
cause  for  years  she  was  my  mother's  personal  maid 
and  Evan  being  my  family  name,  you  see,  Martha  stub 
bornly  takes  the  stand  that  this  is  quite  name  enough 
for  me.  I  daresay  she  has  never  reasoned  out  the  mat- 


190       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

ter,  and  simply  clings  to  the  old  name  for  her  mistress. 
She  says  I  look  like  my  mother  and  that  she  always 
thinks  of  her  when  she  speaks  to  me.  But  Martha  does 
not  talk  much  —  she  won't  make  any  trouble." 

"Is  there  no  one  else?"  sharply  questioned  Miss 
Montgomery,  determined  to  get  at  the  very  bottom  of 
things. 

Eleanor  felt  a  bit  ill  at  ease,  but  she  had  put  this 
case  fairly  to  Miss  Montgomery,  and  now,  in  return 
and  before  committing  herself,  Miss  Montgomery  evi 
dently  wanted  a  full  statement  of  the  affair. 

"  No,"  Eleanor  said.  "  There  is  no  one  else,  so  far 
as  I  know." 

Miss  Stella  Montgomery  put  her  tense,  slender  hands 
on  the  edges  of  the  table,  leaned  forward  and  looked 
Eleanor  straight  in  the  eye.  To  lie  to  her,  or  to  evade 
the  truth,  even,  would  have  been  almost  impossible. 
"  Mrs.  Evanston,"  she  began,  slowly,  using  the  name  as 
it  stood  here  in  the  Camp  for  the  past  month  or  so,  "  is 
there  any  person  in  this  community  whom  you  believe 
does  not  know  you  or  your  business,  who  still  has  any 
possible  chance  of  identifying  you  correctly?  " 

"  Y-yes.  Now  that  you  speak  of  it,  there  is  a  chance, 
but  it  is  so  slight  it  need  hardly  be  taken  into  considera 
tion.  I  will  explain  it  to  you.  My  home  physician 
once  visited  this  Camp  —  he  stopped  in  this  very  house, 
incidentally,  as  the  guest  of  the  Mr.  Burns  you  all  refer 
to  frequently.  I  don't  know  exactly  when  that  was, 
but  you  may  have  met  Dr.  LeRoy?  " 

"  Yes,"  Miss  Montgomery  told  her.  "  I  thought 
him  delightful,  although  he  was  taking  a  rest  cure  or 
something  and  we  saw  him  only  once  or  twice." 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       191 

"  Well,"  Eleanor  proceeded,  "  Dr.  LeRoy  himself 
suggested  that  I  come  out  here,  and  he  kindly  offered  to 
get  me  this  bungalow,  but  I  put  him  off,  being  rather 
independent  in  my  ways  of  doing  things.  I  felt  that  if 
this  house  could  be  got  at  all,  I  could  get  it  through 
some  local  agent  —  which  I  did,  you  see.  Dr.  LeRoy 
offered  me  also,  a  letter  to  Dr.  Marsden  whom  he 
liked,  apparently;  but  this  too,  I  refused,  realising  it 
might  not  be  agreeable  to  have  to  be  polite  to  a  stranger 
—  I  have  been  awfully  lazy  and  self-indulgent  the  last 
two  years.  But  at  the  hotel  Martha  hurt  her  wrist  by 
carelessly  letting  a  trunk  top  fall  on  it,  and  what  was 
more  natural  than  that  I  should  send  for  Dr.  Marsden? 
I  suppose  I  might  have  explained  to  him  how  I  knew 
his  name,  but  I  didn't  feel  like  talking.  Martha  had  ex 
asperated  me  by  slamming  things  around  and  sulking 
all  day,  so  I  didn't  —  and  while  I  thought  of  it  at  other 
times,  still  I  didn't.  Through  Dr.  Marsden  I  met  you 
and  other  people  —  and  so  it  has  all  come  about.  You 
see?" 

"  Yes,  I  see,  perfectly,"  Miss  Montgomery  sympa 
thised,  "  but  will  Dr.  LeRoy  ever  write  to  Dr.  Mars 
den?" 

"  No.  He  hates  to  write  letters,  and  besides,  having 
grown  tired  waiting  to  hear  from  him,  myself,  I  wrote 
him  the  other  day,  explaining  this  very  situation  and 
the  nervous  fun  I  was  getting  out  of  it,  and  said  not  to 
write  me  —  that  we  would  have  a  fine  laugh  over  it 
together  in  New  York  before  many  weeks." 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  reported  Miss  Montgomery. 
*c  But,"  and  again  she  took  that  position  with  her  hands 
on  the  edges  of  the  table  in  a  compelling  way  that 


192       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

seemed  to  draw  the  truth  from  the  most  remote  corners 
of  one's  consciousness,  "  is  there  no  one  else  who  might 
involve  you  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  one  else,"  Eleanor  stated  emphatically. 

But  Miss  Montgomery  was  not  satisfied.  With 
"  Mrs.  Evanston's  "  appeal  to  her  as  a  legitimate  ex 
cuse,  she  felt  she  could  ask  something  else  that  interested 
her  deeply.  She  argued  it  was  fair,  for  upon  her  ad 
vice  to  this  stranger  depended  many  things. 

"  Mrs.  Evanston,"  she  began  seriously,  "  you  have 
honoured  me  with  your  confidence,  and  everything  you 
have  to  tell  me,  interests  me  strongly,  as  though  between 
us  there  were  some  bond  or  barrier  that  we  have  not  yet 
placed.  But  you  ask  me  to  direct  you,  and  before  I 
can  make  any  suggestions,  there  is  one  thing  I  should 
like  to  ask,  with  the  understanding  that  you  answer  it, 
or  not,  exactly  as  you  wish.  May  I  ask  it?  " 

"By  all  means,  Miss  Montgomery!"  her  hostess 
gave  her  permission,  wishing  at  the  same  time,  that 
things  would  hurry  up  and  take  on  a  light  tone.  "  If  I 
answer  you  at  all,  it  shall  be  with  literal  honesty.  Go 


on." 


Miss  Montgomery  was  very,  very  pale  all  around 
the  exquisite  pink  flush  on  her  cheek  bones  and  the 
deeper  colour  of  her  mouth.  "  Mrs.  Evanston,"  she 
prefaced  her  question,  as  though  it  were  sorrowful  to 
care  to  know,  "  is  the  only  photograph  one  sees  in  your 
sitting  room,  a  likeness  of  —  of  Mr.  Crathorne 
Stone?" 

Eleanor  set  her  fork  down  so  hard  in  her  surprise  at 
this  direct  and  rather  exceptional  question  —  or  in  re 
lief  that  it  was  no  worse  —  that  it  must  have  cracked 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        193 

the  edge  of  her  frail  plate.  She  smiled  at  her  opposite 
neighbour,  but  it  was  the  smile  that  sometimes  comes 
because  of  intense  interest,  rather  than  from  amusement. 

"  I  have  wondered,"  she  said,  gently,  "  just  how  long 
it  would  be  before  you  asked  me  that,  Miss  Mont 
gomery.  And  I  can  fulfil  my  promise  to  reply  with 
literal  honesty.  That  the  photograph  is  something  of 
a  likeness  of  this  Mr.  Stone,  must  be  true  —  or  so  many 
persons,  including  yourself,  would  not  remark  the 
resemblance.  But  the  young  man  who  sat  for  this 
photograph  was  the  late  Baron  Gustav  von  Bernharden 
of  Austria  —  the  picture  was  made  of  him  when  he 
visited  New  York  last  year.  When  you  examine  the 
frame  closely  you  will  notice  a  small  gold  coronet  in 
the  upper  left-hand  corner  —  the  crest  of  his  esteemed 
family.  Possibly  you  saw  some  items  in  the  papers 
concerning  his  having  been  killed  while  hunting  in  Long 
Island?" 

Miss  Stella  Montgomery  looked  as  though  she  were 
about  to  faint,  and  she  tried,  courageously,  to  smile  in  a 
way  that  would  disguise  her  humiliation,  and  yet  express 
her  apology  and  her  sympathy.  "I  —  I  beg  your  par 
don  !  "  was  all  that  she  seemed  able  to  articulate. 

"  That's  all  right  —  don't  think  of  it  again,"  Eleanor 
tried  to  put  her  at  ease,  though  she  was  just  on  the  verge 
of  being  a  bit  emotional,  herself.  u  And  incidentally, 
I  fear  you  have  told  me  rather  more  than  you  asked  me, 
Miss  Montgomery,"  she  said,  with  a  gentle  understand 
ing  that  could  not  hurt. 

"  You  know,  then?  "  Miss  Montgomery  murmured. 

"  Yes,"  Eleanor  sighed,  "  I  know.  I  know  that  pain, 
myself,  and  I  knew  you  knew  it  —  the  first  time  I  saw 


194       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

you.  But  let  me  tell  you  something  that  possibly  you 
forget  sometimes  —  he  isn't  worth  it.  None  of  them 
are  worth  it!  " 

"  I  know  —  I  know!  "  breathed  the  pathetic  mouth 
of  Stella  Montgomery,  her  eyes  shut  tight  that  tears 
might  not  show  to  shame  her.  "  They  aren't  worth  it 
—  but  they  get  it  just  the  same.  Heavens  above! 
How  easily  and  how  surely  they  get  our  defenceless 
love!" 

"  One  can  trust  them  for  that,"  dryly  owned  Elea 
nor. 

But  this  was  beginning  to  be  a  strain,  and  Miss  Mont 
gomery  had  not  been  asked  in  to  play  the  leading  role 
in  a  *  society-drama  ' —  she  was  supposed  to  be  having 
a  peaceful  little  dinner,  and  Eleanor  at  once  started  in 
to  re-establish  the  original  superficial  air  of  things,  by 
reverting  to  the  real  subject  under  debate  —  the  name 
of  Evanston. 

"  Why  not  let  it  go?  "  ventured  Miss  Stella  Mont 
gomery,  in  a  tired  little  way,  as  though  life  took  up  too 
much  of  everybody's  time.  "  Don't  you  know  that 
more  than  half  the  trouble  in  the  world  comes  from  try 
ing  to  explain  ourselves?  This  is  a  little  thing,  if  it 
ever  comes  to  light.  To  try  to  make  any  point  of  it 
just  now  seems  both  unnecessary  and  awkward.  You 
might  give  me  one  of  your  cards,  if  you  will,  but  ordi 
narily  —  don't  use  cards.  Send  in  your  name  —  most 
of  us  forget  cards,  anyway.  With  two  telephone  com 
panies  here,  it  is  quite  simple  to  omit  writing  notes. 
And  you  say  you  don't  get  any  letters?  Well,  if  there 
is  any  upset  over  it  —  the  misunderstanding  can 
promptly  be  shown  to  be  on  the  part  of  the  populace, 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       195 

can't  it?  Incidentally,  if  there  is  a  quiet  smile  to  be 
got  out  of  it  —  smile !  " 

And  so  they  smiled  —  and  dropped  the  subject. 

It  seemed  safe  enough  now  to  leave  the  one  flower 
on  the  piano,  Eleanor  thought.  As  the  photograph 
was  not  one  of  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone,  it  could  not  cause 
any  dangerous  storm  in  Miss  Montgomery's  emotions. 

But  while  Stella  Montgomery  was  true  to  her  resolu 
tion  to  ask  no  more  questions,  still  her  keen  eye  did  not 
miss  the  single  carnation  that  lay  before  the  portrait  of 
the  Baron,  when  after  dinner  they  wandered  to  that 
part  of  the  room. 

Miss  Montgomery  dropped  onto  the  bench  and  at 
once  drew  forth  from  the  piano  some  fine,  rich  chords, 
glancing  up  at  her  hostess  who  stood  beside  her.  "  I 
knew  there  was  some  bond  between  us,"  she  said,  sim 
ply.  "  You  like  one  flower,  too !  " 

No  sooner  were  the  words  out,  than  their  new  interest 
received  a  jarring  set-back  in  an  unusually  aggressive 
ring.  Eleanor  crossed  to  her  desk  to  answer  it,  while 
Miss  Montgomery  put  her  well-dressed  little  foot  on  the 
soft  pedal,  and  studied  the  splendid  head  of  the  late 
Baron  von  Bernharden,  wonderingly. 

A  man's  voice  —  a  familiar  voice  —  said  (as  if  it 
neither  knew  nor  cared  whether  it  happened  to  be  ad 
dressing  the  mistress  or  the  maid  belonging  on  the  top 
of  Copper  Hill),  "  This  is  Mr.  Stone  speaking.  I  am 
sorry  to  intrude,  but  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  ask  Miss 
Montgomery  to  speak  with  me  a  moment?  I  heard  I 
could  catch  her  at  this  number." 

"  I  will  tell  her,"  replied  the  lady,  in  the  same  un 
natural  accent  she  had  affected  with  Mr.  Stone,  orig- 


196       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

inally.  Then  walking  back  to  the  piano,  she  said,  with 
a  smile  that  was  gracious  and  unconcerned  —  appar 
ently — "Someone  for  you,  Miss  Montgomery.  Ex 
cuse  me  a  moment?  I  must  get  a  handkerchief." 

"  Once  in  her  own  room,  in  the  interests  of  politeness, 
Eleanor  looked  in  her  mirror  at  her  drawn  eye-lids  and 
stern  little  mouth,  and  remarked  with  a  shrug,  "  I  fancy 
there  will  be  two  bonds  between  us  before  long,  if  I 
don't  cultivate  enough  self-control  to  enable  me  to  hear 
that  man's  voice  without  being  hurled  into  a  state  of 
mental  turmoil  1  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

days  when  it  did  not  storm  or  was  not  too  biting 
cold,  Eleanor  was  out  in  the  late  morning  and 
early  afternoons,  riding  about  the  rugged  country.  The 
mountain  air  was  wonderful  for  her  health,  and  Nickel 
was  proving  himself  to  be  so  companionable  that  the 
feeling  of  loneliness  that  fed  upon  her  no  matter  where 
she  lived,  seemed  lessened  for  a  few  hours  each  day. 
Sometimes  Eleanor  was  conscious  of  such  an  extraor 
dinary  contentment  that  she  tried  to  tell  herself  she  liked 
to  be  alone. 

There  were  lots  of  places  to  go  —  down  the  valley 
toward  the  smelters ;  off  the  other  side  of  Lone  Cone  — 
or  out  into  the  country  toward  the  great  mountains 
twenty  miles  away,  although  their  clear  snow-caps 
seemed  near.  Then,  too,  Eleanor  was  growing  to  be 
most  expert  at  shooting,  which  gave  her  something  else 
to  do  to  help  an  hour  lose  itself. 

Besides  the  renegade's  pistol,  she  now  had  three  of 
her  own  —  one  of  them,  her  pet  possession,  was  an  in 
teresting  little  weapon  carrying  simply  one  thirty-eight 
bullet,  which  the  clerk  at  the  hardware  place  had 
humorously  assured  her  was  ammunition  enough  for 
any  ordinary  emergency  —  in  the  hand  of  a  good  shot. 
But  probably  it  was  the  looks  of  the  thing  which  ap 
pealed  to  its  present  owner  —  it  was  so  beautifully 
made  and  so  compact,  and  was  the  cause  of  Eleanor's 
having  Martha  rip  out  the  stitches  that  heretofore  had 
held  her  coat  pockets  closed.  As  a  child  sometimes 

197 


198       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

loves  some  wee  object  that  the  rest  of  the  world  sees 
no  beauty  in  at  all,  loves  it  more  than  all  its  fine  play 
things,  so  Eleanor  adored  this  little  bull-doggy  looking 
pistol. 

Eleanor's  idea  of  learning  to  use  firearms,  in  the 
first  place,  was  for  self-protection,  if  such  a  thing  were 
ever  necessary,  but  now  she  liked  shooting  as  a  sport, 
although  she  never  could  bring  herself  to  take  a  shot  at 
fleeting  rabbits  and  pretty  birds  that  she  argued  "  she 
just  might  hit."  However,  the  tin  cans  of  all  the  past 
generations  of  cow  punchers  and  prospectors  for  miles 
about,  had  a  mark  of  hers;  and  so  also  had  the  rocks 
and  pines,  for  she  rode  far  out  from  the  Camp  where 
there  still  were  trees  that  the  smelter  smoke  had  not 
ruined,  or  the  busy  miner  had  not  felled  to  timber  his 
underground  workings.  And  apparently  Nickel  was  as 
pleased  by  these  excursions  as  the  lady  whose  firm,  gen 
tle  hand  had  guided  him  here. 

To-day  Eleanor  felt  rather  rich.  A  whole  good  out- 
of-doors  was  hers,  a  horse  that  was  a  strong,  silent 
friend,  a  victory  won  in  having  coat  pockets  in  use  for 
once,  and  a  magpie  near  by  which  either  believed  in  her 
friendship,  or  did  not  believe  in  her  shooting,  although 
she  was  using  her  big,  blue-barrelled  forty-four. 

And  so,  in  this  attractive  spot  a  few  miles  out  of  the 
Camp,  a  little  way  off  an  unfrequented  road,  Eleanor 
was  entertaining  herself  shooting  at  the  tips  of  the 
branches  of  the  fir  trees  and  seeing  how  much  difference 
cold  fingers  made  in  one's  aim,  when  she  caught  the 
sound  of  wheels.  Turning  to  investigate,  she  saw  Dr. 
Marsden  in  his  buggy,  pulling  up  his  horse  and  smiling 
at  her. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        199 

"  Well,  well,  well  1  "  she  called  out,  pleasantly.  "  Of 
all  people!  What  brings  you  here,  Doctor?  " 

"  An  inconsiderate  man  who  broke  his  leg,  and  who 
couldn't  find  any  other  doctor  who  was  fool  enough  to 
drive  twelve  miles  out  into  the  wilds  to  fix  him  up,"  the 
doctor  reported,  loosening  his  carriage  robe,  prepara 
tory  to  getting  out.  "  But  I  am  repaid  in  meeting 
you!" 

Nickel  was  lounging  on  three  legs,  regarding  himself 
hitched  as  Western  horses  do,  because  the  reins  were 
thrown  over  his  head,  and  lay  on  the  ground.  And  the 
lady  was  standing  near  him,  when  the  doctor  tied  his 
horse  to  the  stub  of  a  tree  at  the  side  of  the  rough  road, 
and  came  up  with  his  hand  extended. 

"  Let's  see  what  you  can  do  with  a  gun?  "  he  sug 
gested.  "  I  heard  your  shots  a  long  way  off,  and  I 
wondered  what  was  going  on.  Pretty  heavy  gun  for  a 
girl,  isn't  it?" 

Eleanor  obligingly  picked  off  pine  cones  for  his 
amusement,  and  then  proposed  that  he  try  his  own  luck. 
He  hit  about  every  fifth  object  he  pointed  at,  and  the 
game  was  laughingly  declared  won  by  the  lady. 

"  Weren't  you  afraid  you  were  driving  into  an  In 
dian  fight,  Doctor?"  she  playfully  asked  him. 
"  Doesn't  the  sound  of  shooting  scare  you?  " 

"  Not  nearly  so  much  as  you  do,"  he  replied,  with  an 
expression  that  Eleanor  did  not  like.  "  This  is  a  lone 
some  place  for  you,  do  you  know  it?  "  he  went  on. 

"  It's  no  more  lonesome  than  any  other  place !  "  she 
flung  back  at  him,  lightly,  rather  disliking  the  man  for 
the  first  time.  The  doctor  was  more  than  prompt  in 
spoiling  whatever  pleasure  the  lady  felt  at  seeing  him, 


200       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

and  she  quickly  said,  "  It  must  be  getting  late  —  the  sun 
has  deserted  us,  and  what  a  difference  it  makes  in  the 
high  altitude  to  have  the  sun  drop  away !  I  should  say 
we  had  best  be  moving  on  toward  town,  shouldn't 
you?" 

Having  expressed  her  own  desire,  Eleanor  slipped 
her  smoking  gun  into  the  big  saddle  pocket  and  buckled 
it  down.  Then  she  reached  for  Nickel's  reins  and 
stepped  around  the  horse  to  the  stirrup  side.  Here 
Dr.  Marsden  met  her,  having  come  up  as  if  to  offer  to 
give  her  a  hand  to  her  saddle. 

When  she  discovered  that  the  doctor  was  standing 
too  close  to  her,  and  that  she  could  not  step  back  be 
cause  she  had  already  driven  herself  into  Nickel's  side, 
and  realised  she  was  not  heavy  enough  to  make  the 
horse  move,  she  was  quite  ill  at  ease. 

Her  reproving  glance  not  making  the  doctor  retreat, 
the  lady  put  one  hand  on  his  chest  and  tried  to  force  him 
to  step  back,  saying  in  marked  irritation,  u  Doctor,  do 
you  remember  my  telling  you  to  look  out  for  that  ice 
you  say  I  am  made  of?  May  I  ask  you  to  remember 
also  that  there  is  plenty  of  room  —  that  you  don't  have 
to  stand  on  that  one  little  spot?  " 

"  I  recall  your  warning  perfectly,"  the  man  replied, 
*c  but  you  spoke  too  late.  That  ice  has  set  me  on  fire  1  " 

"And  do  you  realise  why?"  the  woman  asked, 
sharply. 

"  I  neither  know  nor  care  why!  "  he  retorted,  hotly. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  why,"  she  persisted.  "  It  is  be 
cause  you  are  made  of  material  as  cold  as  liquid  air. 
There  isn't  an  atom  of  real  sentiment  in  you.  What 
ever  you  do  in  this  world  is  done  purely  from  your  own 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       201 

selfish  motives.  You  would  intrude  yourself  upon  me, 
whether  it  were  for  my  pleasure  or  not,  and  you  prob 
ably  never  moved  a  foot  out  of  town  to  set  your  pa 
tient's  leg,  until  you  satisfied  yourself  he  had  the  money 
there  ready  for  you.  You  do  all  things  from  the  same 
standpoint,  and  you  are  always  obvious !  " 

"  You  speak  frankly,  Mrs.  Evanston,"  complained 
the  man,  though  he  still  held  his  ground  and  they  spoke 
right  in  each  other's  faces.  "  May  I  ask  why  you  hon 
our  me  with  this  fine  analysis?  " 

"  The  immediate  reason  is  to  shock  you  into  stepping 
back  from  me,"  she  acknowledged,  "  and  the  deeper 
reason  is  to  show  you,  if  possible,  that  I  see  through  you 
and  would  like  to  have  you  understand  this  fact." 

"  A  man  must  live !  "  he  angrily  answered  her.  "  A 
man  must  collect  the  wage  for  his  labour,  and  he  must 
force  some  response  to  the  torrents  of  feeling  that 
sometimes  rush  through  him  so  hard  as  to  blind  him.  I 
don't  mean  to  frighten  you,  but  I  want  one  little  kiss  — 
and  that  one  I  am  going  to  take.  You  will  have  to  be 
fairly  civil  about  it.  Your  gun  is  in  your  saddle 
pocket,  buttoned  in, —  and  the  pocket  is  the  other  side 
of  the  horse.  Besides,  you  wouldn't  point  a  gun  at  a 
good  friend  anyway,  just  because  he  teased  you  a  little. 
Now  come  —  be  game  —  be  a  good  loser,  dear  little 
storm-at-sea  in  the  key  of  A  minor !  " 

They  stood  very,  very  near  together,  and  the  doctor 
held  both  her  hands,  as  in  a  vice. 

"  Give  me  my  kiss !  "  commanded  Dr.  Marsden,  in 
quiet  intensity. 

The  lady  looked  him  in  the  eye  and  smiled  faintly. 
"  First,  may  I  ask  a  favour?  "  she  pleaded. 


202       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed. 

"  Will  you  please  allow  me  the  use  of  my  right  hand 
a  moment?  "  Eleanor  asked,  most  politely.  "  I  should 
like  to  get  my  handkerchief  and  dust  off  my  travel- 
stained  cheek." 

"  Yes,  I'll  let  you  get  your  handkerchief,  but  you 
won't  be  long?  "  And  he  released  her  right  wrist. 

"  Thank  you,  gentle  jailer,"  she  smiled,  sweetly,  giv 
ing  the  impression  of  having  decided  to  take  the  scene 
as  a  joke.  She  deliberately  took  out  her  handkerchief 
and  wiped  her  face.  Then  she  studied  the  handker 
chief  to  see  if  she  had  got  all  of  the  dust  off. 

Dr.  Marsden  started  to  capture  her  hand  again. 

"  Wait  a  minute !  "  Eleanor  gasped,  shoving  him  back 
with  considerable  strength.  "  I  haven't  put  my  hand 
kerchief  away,  yet." 

A  look  of  quiet  amusement  came  into  the  deep  brown 
eyes,  as  the  girlish  person  shook  out  her  handkerchief 
and  slowly  put  it  back  in  her  coat  pocket.  But  when 
her  firm,  slender  hand  returned  from  the  pocket,  it 
brought  up  her  nice,  stocky,  bull-doggy,  single-cylinder 
gun.  And  within  the  merest  fraction  of  an  instant,  its 
wide,  cold,  short  barrel  rested  just  between  the  doctor's 
astonished  eyes. 

The  man  neither  spoke,  nor  moved. 

"  You  see,  it  didn't  take  me  so  very  long,  Doctor?  " 
she  said  lightly.  "  And  now,  may  I  suggest  that  you 
unhitch  your  horse  and  drive  back  to  town?  " 

"  Well,"  he  breathed,  as  he  backed  off;  "  well,  I'll  be 
hanged!" 

Eleanor  dropped  her  hand  to  her  side,  though  she 
still  held  the  dangerous  looking  little  weapon. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       203 

"I  trust  I  have  been  fair,  Doctor?"  she  asked. 
"  You  know  I  told  you  honestly,  in  the  beginning,  that 
I  did  not  think  it  would  be  good  for  you  to  play  with 
that  ice  —  that  it  might  make  you  boil  over  sometime. 
You  remember  ?  " 

Dr.  Marsden  stood  as  if  fascinated,  watching  the 
young  woman  lead  her  horse  to  a  small  boulder,  from 
which  she  mounted  —  without  his  even  offering  to  aid 
her,  so  completely  was  he  quieted. 

"  If  you  don't  untie  your  horse,  Doctor,  I  shall  beat 
you  back  to  town,"  she  called  to  him,  having  settled 
herself  comfortably  in  her  saddle  and  gathered  up  the 
reins.  But  still  the  man  stood  watching  her,  thickly. 

Eleanor  directed  Nickel  to  trot  over  to  him. 

"What's  the  matter,  Doctor?"  she  asked,  leaning 
down  from  her  high  position  to  look  into  his  face. 

"  I  don't  know,  exactly,"  he  replied.  "  Perhaps  I'm 
hurt.  It  never  occurred  to  me  that  the  first  time  in  my 
life  a  gun  was  pulled  on  me,  it  would  be  by  a  girl." 

"Oh  —  is  that  all?"  she  reassured  him.  "Well, 
be  cheered !  It  wasn't  much  of  a  gun  to  begin  with,  and 
in  the  second  place,  I  never  would  have  aimed  it  at  you 
in  the  world,  if  it  had  been  loaded.  See !  " 

And  quick  as  a  flash  she  opened  the  little  pistol  and 
showed  him  that  it  had  no  shell  in  it  at  all. 

"  I  had  just  been  practising  with  it,  when  you  drove 
up,  you  see,"  she  sweetly  explained,  "  and  had  not  re 
loaded  it  —  I  had  no  more  bullets.  It  is  only  an  empty 
toy  —  something  like  the  rest  of  the  joke.  Good-bye, 
—  I'm  going  back  cross-country.  Hope  your  patient 
with  the  broken  leg  gets  on  well !  " 

And  she  was  off  at  a  gallop. 


204       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  Well,  I'll  be  hanged !  "  grunted  the  doctor,  yanking 
his  horse  out  of  a  doze.  "  Hanged  —  and  then  some. 
Rich,  poor,  good,  bad  and  indifferent,  they're  all  devils; 
and  they  put  it  over  you,  one  way  or  another,  from  the 
day  they  are  born !  " 

And  the  same  magpie  that  had  been  so  interested  in 
the  lady's  marksmanship  earlier  in  the  afternoon,  ut 
tered  his  unpleasant  call,  hopped  down  from  a  pine  tree, 
and  had  a  look  at  the  empty  shells  all  about  the  place. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  worst  time  for  anyone  who  lives  alone,  is  the 
dinner  hour.  Breakfast,  one  can  argue,  is  merely 
the  start  of  a  day;  luncheon  is  a  necessity;  but  dinner, 
the  sociable  meal  of  the  day  —  dinner  by  oneself,  is, 
indeed,  the  most  trying  time  of  the  day. 

Dinner  to-night  was  unusually  hard  for  Eleanor.  In 
the  first  place,  she  was  late,  which  put  Martha  in  a  fine 
fit  of  the  sulks,  and  to  be  shut  up  with  one  of  Martha's 
ill-humours  was  no  mean  trial;  and  in  the  second  place 
Eleanor  dined  only  because  she  felt  she  owed  it  to  her 
self  to  eat.  To-night,  try  as  she  might,  she  could  not 
do  more  than  muss  up  the  things  on  her  plate,  which 
Martha  accepted  as  a  personal  insult,  freezing  up  harder 
than  before.  It  had  turned  cold  outside,  too.  The 
wind  began  to  express  itself,  as  nowhere  else  in 
all  her  life,  had  Eleanor  ever  heard  it.  It  sighed, 
and  whistled,  and  moaned,  and  threatened  by  turns. 
In  spite  of  both  the  stove  and  the  fireplace,  the  wind 
sucked  all  the  comfort  right  out  of  the  little  house  on 
the  top  of  Copper  Hill,  when  it  tore  around  the  coun 
try  at  large  and  this  spot  in  particular.  There  was  no 
such  thing  as  keeping  warm.  One's  head  might  swim 
in  heat,  but  it  was  cold  on  the  floor,  hatefully  cold. 

Eleanor  wondered  what  she  should  do  with  herself  as 
soon  as  she  dared  leave  the  table  —  apparently  Martha 
meant  to  keep  on  handing  things  to  her  until  she  ate 
something,  if  the  ceremony  lasted  all  night.  She  could 
not  play  the  piano  —  that  was  one  thing.  The  piano 

305 


206       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

was  out  of  tune.  And  the  Piano  Tuners'  Union  was 
giving  itself  a  vacation.  There  were  two  members  of 
this  profession  in  the  Camp,  one  of  whom  hadn't  re 
ported  for  business  in  ten  days;  and  the  other  had  gone 
East  to  attend  his  mother's  funeral  in  South  Bend,  In 
diana,  or  maybe  it  was  Kewanee,  Illinois?  The  floor 
manager  always  got  them  mixed.  He  didn't  know  why. 
And  for  the  present,  anyone  not  caring  for  the  tone  of 
his  or  her  piano,  had  the  Union's  permission  to  do  what 
ever  he  or  she  liked  best  about  it  —  it  was  nothing  to 
the  two  rival  piano  stores  —  they  had  their  own 
troubles.  And  this  was  the  Camp.  As  has  been  re 
marked  before  if  one  did  not  like  it,  one  did  not  have 
to  stay. 

Eleanor  could  hardly  play  the  piano  —  but  there  was 
Sir  Walter  Scott.  She  shivered  slightly,  partly  from 
her  thoughts,  partly  from  the  wind,  and  partly  from 
nerves.  She  wanted  to  talk.  In  fact,  she  had  to  talk 
—  or  explode. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Coffee-pot!  "  she  murmured. 

No  answer. 

"  I  will  talk  to  myself!  "  she  rippled  on,  softly,  so 
that  Martha  might  not  catch  a  sound  from  the  big  room 
which  might  imply  insanity.  "  What  an  interesting 
place  this  mining  camp  is!  A  life  of  bright  spots  and 
dull  streaks  —  the  streaks  quite  overpowering  the 
spots.  Ah!  "  the  lady  smiled  in  a  courageous  little  at 
tempt  to  combat  that  hideous  enemy,  loneliness,  "  I  know 
why  I'm  bored.  '  The  Camp  isn't  what  it  used  to  be  ' — 
Heilberg  lives  abroad  these  days.  It's  too  civilised 
now  that  the  ministers  are  holding  evening  classes  for  the 
unravelling  of  Browning.  The  place  would  have  been 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        207 

more  amusing  fifteen  years  ago,  no  doubt.  Dear  me ! 
Refinement  tags  high-grade  ore  everywhere,  and  tends 
to  obliterate  the  picturesque.  I  share  the  popular  dis 
appointment  in  the  Camp !  " 

She  sighed. 

"  What  will  the  infinite  flatness  of  things  drive  one  to, 
in  time,  I  wonder?  Still  there  is  one  great  consola 
tion  —  there  are  always  the  private  affairs  of  other 
people  for  us  to  delve  into  by  way  of  combating  utter 
mental  stagnation.  It  would  help  to  kill  some  of  the 
time,  for  instance,  if  one  knew  why  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone 
felt  he  had  to  speak  with  Miss  Montgomery  that  even 
ing  she  dined  here  last  week." 

Eleanor's  thoughts  rushed  on,  quite  absorbing  her. 
"  Mr.  Stone  has  never  got  a  glimpse  of  me  in  all  the 
time  I  have  lived  in  his  town,"  she  reflected.  u  And 
my  voice  never  could  have  suggested  anyone  he  ever 
knew;  for,  to  him  I  have  made  it  unlike  any  voice  he 
ever  heard  before  or  ever  would  wish  to  hear  again." 

"  '  Calm  as  the  night  and  deep  as  the  sea,  must  be 
your  love,  your  love,  dear,  for  me'  "  Eleanor  smiled, 
sadly,  as  this  refrain  came  to  her  —  in  fair  memory  of 
Mr.  Stone's  fine  voice.  "  The  text  of  this  classic  song 
reads,  '  should  be  your  love,'  "  Eleanor  remembered. 
"  Mr.  Stone  takes  the  liberty  of  saying  *  must  be  your 
love.'  How  characteristic  of  the  Stones !  " 

She  shrugged  a  nervous,  reminiscent  shrug.  "  How 
it  would  amuse  the  Camp  to  know  that  I  know  some 
thing  of  this  Crathorne  Stone  myself!  "  she  thought. 
"  I  know,  perhaps,  a  little  more  about  him  than  anyone 
here  —  with  the  possible  exception  of  Miss  Stella 
Montgomery.  He  belonged  to  the  family  I  married. 


ao8       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Most  people  marry  an  individual.  But  I  didn't  —  I 
married  a  grandmother,  a  father,  a  brother,  a  sister,  a 
huge  brown  stone  house  stuffed  with  the  Civil-War 
period  of  marble-topped  furniture.  And  then,  too,  I 
married  a  few  choice  odds  and  ends  like  an  established 
religion,  the  same  old  housekeeper,  whether  I  liked  her 
or  not,  regular  hours,  and  a  '  proper  idea  of  diet.'  " 

Eleanor  left  the  table,  automatically,  and  sank  upon 
the  divan.  '  The  only  item  mentioned  in  my  marriage 
that  I  ever  knew  very  well,  was  the  housekeeper,"  her 
thoughts  forced  themselves  into  words.  "  But  the  only 
items  that  I  cared  to  know,  were  my  husband  and  his 
brother.  Yet  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  house  in  which 
I  spent  my  brief  married  life,  nobody  ever  really  knew 
anybody  else.  All  of  the  Stones  are  resentful  of  what 
they  consider  my  disrespect  to  their  honoured  name," 
Eleanor  recalled.  "  Yet  I  did  nothing  to  their  name, 
but  drop  it  once.  I  patched  matters  together  the  best  I 
could  and  joined  it  to  my  own  by  a  hyphen,  although  I 
certainly  do  throw  the  accent  so  strongly  on  my  own 
name  that  the  result  is  I  am  generally  known  as  Mrs. 
Evanston." 

The  wind  tore  around  the  house  more  viciously  than 
ever,  as  if  in  response  to  this.  "  What  contempt  the 
Stones  had  for  me!  "  Eleanor  sighed — "  I  seemed  to 
them  to  be  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was  trivial,  ex 
travagant  and  inappreciative  —  the  product  of  disgust 
ing  wealth  and  indulgent  parentage.  And  when  they 
decided  there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  make  me  like  them 
selves,  they  smothered  me  with  their  unvoiced  disap 
proval  —  all  but  the  boys,  and  they  dared  not  defend 
me  openly,  lest  their  father  change  his  will.  Fascina- 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       209 

ting  boys,  Danforth  and  Crathorne !  But  they  were  too 
young  to  cope  with  the  situation.  We  were  all  too 
young,  I  fancy." 

Eleanor  leaned  eagerly  forward,  as  her  memories 
rushed  on  and  on. 

"  I  am  glad  enough  to  slide  along  as  Mrs.  Evanston," 
she  reasoned.  "  Of  course  this  Camp  is  a  tiny  place, 
and  our  amusing  little  game  of  hide-and-seek  can't  go 
on  for  long.  But  I  don't  intend  it  shall.  I  shall  be 
gone  soon,  and  in  the  meantime,  I  fancy  I  shall  not  have 
to  try  to  avoid  the  young  man  —  he  does  not  have  much 
to  do  with  society,  from  all  I  can  gather  of  his  habits. 
Yet,  what  I  shall  do,  if,  in  spite  of  my  watchfulness,  we 
should  meet  somewhere,  face  to  face?  I  suppose  the 
smartest  thing  to  do,  would  be  —  nothing?  But  — 
we  shall  never  meet !  " 

She  pressed  her  interlaced  fingers  together  so  tightly 
that  they  hurt  each  other,  and  her  eyes  burned  with  con 
flicting  feelings. 

"Unbelievable  how  that  boy  changed!"  she 
breathed.  "  When  I  was  engaged  to  him,  I  did  not 
realise  he  was  undemonstrative  —  his  manner  to  me 
seemed  caress  enough.  But  when  he  took  me  home, 
something  chilled  him,  perhaps  everything  chilled  him 
—  the  ornate  rose-wood  set  in  the  drawing  room,  the 
colossal  oils,  the  tremendous  bronzes,  the  white  marble 
mantel-piece  with  the  white  marble  horns-of-plenty  on 
the  cross  section,  emptying  out  white  marble  fruits  that 
never  fell  to  the  white  marble  hearth,  though  I  have 
stared  at  them  whole  evenings  at  a  time,  waiting  for  the 
crash  with  all  my  fettered  soul !  " 

Eleanor  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed. 


210       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  And  one  day  I  ran  away.  I  ran  away  —  four  blocks 
—  to  my  own  people." 

She  caught  her  breath  as  her  sorrowful  recollections 
besieged  her. 

"  Later  we  sent  a  maid  to  pack  up  what  belonged  to 
me,  and  that  was  the  end.  I  did  not  say  good-bye  to 
anybody  —  not  even  to  him  and  his  nice  brother.  I 
knew  none  of  them  would  understand,  so  I  never  gave  a 
reason.  Perhaps  there  was  no  reason?  I  never 
thought  of  this  before,  but  it  may  be  true.  I  went 
abroad  the  following  Saturday.  It  all  seems  hundreds 
of  years  ago,  and  —  blurred." 

Martha  had  grown  weary  of  waiting  for  her  mistress' 
bell,  and  so  she  had  quietly  come  in  and  removed  the 
silver  service  and  the  table  cloth.  She  put  a  centre 
piece  on  the  table  and  set  a  vase  of  flowers  there,  but 
the  lady  sat  in  utter  self-absorption,  unaware  of  her 
presence.  Martha,  supposing  she  was  only  more  tired 
than  usual,  silently  left  her. 

At  last  Eleanor  rose  stiffly  and  went  to  the  fireplace. 

"  What  a  weird  sense  of  humour  life  has !  "  she  com 
mented.  "  In  trying  to  get  away  from  all  former  as 
sociations  on  my  physician's  orders,  I  bring  up  nearer 
them  than  I  have  been  since  I  left  them!  Had  I  run 
into  some  of  the  Stones  in  Paris,  or  in  Egypt  or  in  the 
frequented  paths  of  Japan  —  well,  would  it  have  been 
so  surprising?  But  here,  in  the  last  place  on  earth  — 
the  jumping-off  place  —  well,  one  can  only  smile  at  the 
pranks  of  fate!  And  most  remarkable  of  all,  is  the 
fact  that  the  very  same  things  that  were  at  the  bottom 
of  my  running  away  from  my  husband  —  unresponsive- 
ness,  self-restraint,  silence  —  are  the  cause  of  this  whole 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       211 

community  studying  the  smallest  action  and  the  most  in 
consequent  expression  of  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone.  Inter 
esting,  surely.  And  even  I  —  I  of  all  the  world  —  I, 
too,  feel  this  man's  hold." 

Presently  Eleanor  smiled.     It  was  a  tired  little  smile. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  delightful,"  she  mused,  "  if  I  went 
mad  over  Crathorne  Stone?  Could  anything  be  more 
deliciously  comic  than  the  picture  of  me  thinking  —  for 
the  second  time,  too !  —  that  a  Stone  was  '  calm  as  the 
night  and  deep  as  the  sea  '?  " 

She  stood  with  one  hand  on  her  chest,  as  if  in  pain, 
and  at  last  she  spoke  to  herself  aloud.  "  I  believe  there 
must  be  a  marble  top  on  my  heart,"  she  said,  "  it  hurts 
so,  sometimes." 

And  it  seemed  to  her  as  she  stood  there,  staring,  that 
a  certain  golden  edge  of  a  log  about  to  fall  in  a  heap  of 
ash  on  the  hearth,  strongly  suggested  the  profile  of  Miss 
Stella  Montgomery. 


CHAPTER  XX 

TT  was  about  half  past  eight,  although  had  you  asked 
A  Eleanor  how  long  she  had  been  sitting  staring  into 
the  fireplace,  without  making  a  single  move,  she  prob 
ably  would  have  answered  in  a  dazed  little  way  that 
she  did  not  know  whether  it  had  been  hours  or  years. 

Martha  was  glad  of  an  excuse  to  arouse  her,  for 
Martha  knew  full  well  what  prostration  followed 
her  mistress1  times  of  introspection.  And  so,  when 
Emily  Corey  stood  at  the  back  door,  Martha  treated 
her  better  than  she  had  on  the  occasion  of  her  first  call 
—  she  would  serve  a  purpose  —  so  Martha  asked  her 
to  step  inside,  while  she  went  to  announce  her. 

"  Let  her  come  in,  Martha,1'  wearily  said  her  mis 
tress. 

The  frail  girl  was  warm  this  time,  in  a  long,  shabby 
fur  coat  and  a  fur  turban  with  some  faded  violets  on  it, 
and  she  soon  stood  before  the  fire,  slightly  embarrassed 
as  her  hostess  held  out  her  hand  in  welcome. 

"  Maybe  you  wouldn't  want  to  shake  hands  with 
me?  "  she  faltered. 

"  Why  not,  Emily  Corey?  "  Eleanor  asked,  putting 
one  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder,  and  deliberately  taking 
the  gloved  hand  that  hung  limp  at  the  girl's  side. 

"  We're  different,"  the  girl  shortly  volunteered,  stub 
bornly  standing  her  ground. 

"  How  absurd !  "  lightly  expostulated  Eleanor. 
"  Unbutton  your  coat  and  sit  down.  How  have  you 
been?" 

212 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       213 

"  You  said  to  come  back,"  the  girl  reminded  her. 
"  Otherwise  I  wouldn't  be  here." 

Evidently  the  girl  was  in  no  mood  for  any  imper 
sonal  commonplaces,  so  this  was  her  answer  to  the  lady's 
natural  inquiry  for  her  health.  And,  as  is  often  the 
case,  two  persons  who  are  from  different  moulds  of  life, 
have  no  superficial,  mutual  playground.  Such  persons 
get  at  each  other  very  quickly,  or  there  is  nothing  at  all 
between  them,  and  they  pass  each  other  by. 

"  Yes,"  Eleanor  reflected,  "  I  remember  telling  you 
to  come  back,  and  I  am  glad  you  remembered  and 
wanted  to  come." 

"  I  remembered,"  the  girl  honestly  said,  "  but  I  did 
not  want  to  come." 

"  Then  I  thank  you  especially,"  graciously  replied 
her  hostess,  not  resenting  the  girl's  outspoken  feeling, 
and  indeed  Emily  Corey's  manner  was  anything  but  of 
fensive.  She  was  more  sad  than  rude.  "  And  now, 
Miss  Corey,"  Eleanor  went  on,  undaunted,  "  how  have 
you  been,  I  say,  all  this  long  time?  " 

"  It  hasn't  been  so  long,"  the  girl  said  softly,  "  any 
way,  not  by  the  calendar  —  it's  been  under  a  month. 
And  I've  been  the  same." 

"And  how  is  he  —  the  young  man?"  Eleanor 
boldly  ventured,  by  way  of  opening  up  some  subject  for 
conversation. 

"  He's  been  the  same  —  or  worse,"  the  girl  promptly 
told  her.  "  After  that  time  up  here,  I  got  him  braced 
up  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  so  that  he  attended  to  busi 
ness.  He's  a  kind  of  broker  —  sells  unlisted  stocks,  as 
he  calls  them,  and  floats  mining  propositions,  as  they 


214       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

say.  He  was  doing  fine,  when  —  off  he  went  to  the 
whisky  again. 

"  He  had  to  go  out  and  look  over  a  new  property  ten 
miles  over  the  Range,  and  the  owner  who  took  him,  had 
a  bottle  of  stuff  in  the  buckboard.  This  started  him. 
You  know  it's  an  awful  shame  about  him?  He's  so 
good  looking  and  he's  got  a  fine  education  —  he's  a 
mining  engineer  with  degrees  from  two  or  three  col 
leges.  And  his  folks  is  swell  —  from  a  society  point 
of  view.  They  come  from  Philadelphia.  But  I  guess 
none  of  them  is  extra  strong  on  common  sense.  He 
ain't,  certainly,  and  his  folks  lays  his  good-for-nothing- 
ness  all  to  me." 

Emily  Corey  had  hardly  stopped  to  get  breath,  so 
eager  she  was  in  the  presence  of  a  truly  sympathetic 
audience. 

Eleanor  forgot  herself  completely,  and  leaned  for 
ward,  intent  upon  this  girl  and  her  difficulties. 
"  You?  "  she  repeated.  "  How  can  they  say  you  are 
responsible?  " 

"  Well,"  began  Emily  Corey,  gaining  courage,  "  you 
know  the  world  is  full  of  people  who  think  because  a 
thing  is  bad,  it's  sure  to  be  bad  clear  through?  There 
are  lots  like  that,  and  his  folks  is  among  them.  They 
know  about  me,  because  once  when  he  was  drunker 
than  usual,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  them  that  he 
thought  he'd  marry  me.  They  needn't  to  have  wor 
ried.  I  didn't  need  their  remarks  to  make  me  turn 
him  down,  for  all  there  was  some  talk  of  marrying  him 
for  a  while.  I  was  pretty  crazy,  but  I  still  could  see 
what  I  was  up  against  if  things  went  badly  afterward. 
About  four  times  a  day,  I'd  hear  something  about  '  the 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       215 

natural  result  of  marrying  out  of  one's  class/  like  they 
wrote  him." 

"  Why  do  you  cling  to  this  man?  "  Eleanor  asked, 
gently. 

Emily  Corey  smiled,  bitterly,  and  answered,  "  I 
don't  wonder  you  ask  me.  Of  course  most  women 
who  cling  as  you  call  it,  to  no-good  men,  have  to  — 
it's  the  law  —  they've  got  to.  But  why  anybody  gets 
tied  to  one  so  tight  without  a  big  chain  like  the  law, 
but  with  nothing  but  a  little  string  made  of  foolishness, 
beats  me  —  honest  it  does,  and  I  can't  say  why  I 
stick." 

"  There  must  be  some  reason,"  remarked  her  new 
friend,  quite  as  much  to  herself,  as  to  her  caller. 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Emily  Corey,  "  I  guess  you're  right, 
but  I  have  to  stop  and  think  up  the  reasons  —  they 
don't  come  to  me.  He  needs  me,  I  suppose,  or  I  think 
he  does.  He's  an  under  dog,  and  that  means  every 
body's  got  time  to  push  him  down  a  little  farther,  and 
nobody's  got  time  to  build  up  his  self-respect,  or  to  see 
he  doesn't  fall  somewhere  and  lie  out,  dead  to  the 
world,  all  night  and  get  sick.  Those  swell  folks  of  his 
can't  be  bothered.  He  shocks  them  so  that  they  can't 
bear  to  have  him  live  in  the  same  town  with  them. 
They've  got  it  fixed  so  that  the  money  he  inherited, 
they  now  give  him  as  a  present  in  small  amounts  and 
on  condition  he  lives  out  West.  His  folks  is  real  cute, 
I'll  say  that  for  them.  I  am  about  the  only  mother 
he's  got,  in  a  way.  Then,  he  treats  me  so  indifferent. 
You  know  how  that  works  sometimes?  Treat  a 
woman  mean  enough,  and  she  trails  you  like  a  lamb  — 
ever  notice  it?  " 


2i6       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Eleanor  smiled  a  sad  little  smile  of  the  deepest  un 
derstanding,  and  dryly  remarked,  u  There  is  a  great 
deal  in  that,  Emily  Corey!"  And  forcing  her 
thoughts  back  from  generalities  to  the  interest  of  the 
moment,  she  next  asked,  "  What  is  this  man's  name?  " 

"  Chandler  Maxwell  Ortman,"  the  girl  replied, 
proudly. 

4  That  sounds  as  though  he  had  enough  to  live  up 
to,  certainly,"  Eleanor  commented. 

4  You'd  think  so,  wouldn't  you?"  appealed  the 
girl. 

A  moment's  thoughtful  silence  fell  upon  them,  then 
Eleanor  was  back  with  another  question.  "  Are  you 
going  to  drag  along  this  way  forever?  "  she  inquired, 
concisely  enough. 

4  You  might  ask  me  something  easy,"  the  girl  mur 
mured,  both  humorously  and  pathetically,  44  but  so 
long  as  you  can't  think  of  an  easier  one,  why  all  I  can 
say  is,  I  don't  know.  Maybe  he'll  kill  himself  some 
day,  which  will  help  some.  He  almost  got  to  the  end 
yesterday.  You  know  I  told  you  he  went  out  to  a 
new  camp?  Well,  when  I  found  out  where  he  was, 
I  hired  a  team  and  followed  him." 

"Yes?" 

"  I  had  a  rotten  time  getting  there  —  worst  kind  of 
mountain  roads,  and  livery  horses  not  used  to  that 
work.  Well,  I  got  there  at  sun-set,  to  see  a  half 
dozen  men  gathered  around  the  edge  of  a  partly 
boarded-over  prospect  hole,  yelling  down  to  somebody. 
I  soon  found  it  was  him  down  there,  alone  in  a  de 
serted  shaft  that  had  some  water  in  the  bottom  of  it, 
and  they  were  afraid  if  he  stayed  down  there  many 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       217 

more  hours,  he'd  get  pneumonia,  and  they  never  could 
get  him  out.  When  they  missed  him,  they  found  out 
he  had  gone  down  this  shaft  on  the  ladders,  which  were 
not -in  good  condition,  for  it  was  an  old  claim,  you  see, 
and  had  not  been  worked  for  years.  He  was  drunk, 
of  course,  or  he  would  have  had  more  sense  than  to 
try  such  a  stunt. 

"  Well,  they  did  everything  to  get  that  man  to  come 
up,  but  he'd  yell  back  that  he'd  shoot  dead  the  first 
man  that  dared  to  come  down  after  him.  He  was 
there  on  an  errand  for  a  lady,  he  insisted,  and  he 
would  not  be  bullied  —  he'd  come  back  when  he 
found  what  he  was  looking  for,  and  not  before.  At 
the  end  of  two  hours,  they  were  scared  about  him,  for 
all  the  satisfaction  they  could  get  out  of  him,  was  that 
he  was  being  used  as  the  motor-power  to  run  the  drills 
—  that  they  were  killing  him  by  using  his  vitality  to 
operate  so  many  machines,  but  that  they  had  to  get  the 
ore  out,  and  he  was  no  quitter.  They  were  trying  to 
tell  him  he  was  mad  —  that  there  were  no  miners  un 
derground  and  no  drills  in  use  there  —  that  he  was 
alone  and  sick  —  when  I  came  up. 

"  I  called  down  to  him  then,  and  he  said  he'd  shoot 
me  if  I  tried  to  come  down  the  ladders.  And  it  oc 
curred  to  me  to  tell  him  I  had  shot  myself  and  needed 
his  help  to  get  me  back  to  a  doctor,  and  I  yelled  down 
all  about  the  accident.  This  got  him  to  try  to  come  up, 
for  a  wonder  —  I  thought  for  a  second  I  had  made  a 
mistake,  and  that  he'd  sing  back,  *  Good  enough  —  I 
hope  it  finishes  you ! '  but  for  once  he  was  decent  and 
sorry." 

Here  the  girl  stopped,  as  if  tired  out  by  the  memory 


218       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

of  this  exhausting  experience.  Her  hostess  did  not 
move  or  speak. 

"  Well,"  she  went  on,  "  if  you  will  believe  me,  that 
man  was  over  half  an  hour  making  the  climb  out  of 
that  shaft!  I  thought  every  minute  I'd  faint  away 
with  the  suspense.  We  couldn't  hear  all  he  said,  it 
was  so  far  down  and  so  dark  and  all,  but  he'd  yell  up 
every  little  while  that  his  strength  was  all  gone  —  that 
they  still  had  a  wire  attached  to  him  which  carried  out 
his  life  to  work  the  pumps  —  and  that  he  didn't  care  a 
hang  if  he  did  drop.  And  once  —  once  we  heard  a 
crackling  of  timber,  and  we  thought  the  ladders  had 
given  way  in  some  rotted-out  place.  I  grew  ten  years 
older  in  the  silence  that  followed.  He  would  not  an 
swer  us,  or  he  couldn't,  and  we  didn't  know  which." 

The  girl  shivered,  nervously.  "  After  a  while,  that 
drunken  fiend  laughed.  He  thought  it  was  a  good 
joke  on  us  to  hang  where  he  was  when  the  ladder  below 
gave  way  and  he  caught  the  next  higher  one  just  in 
time  to  save  his  worthless  neck.  And  so,  when  he  got 
good  and  ready,  he  came  to  the  surface  still  shouting 
he'd  kill  the  first  man  who  insulted  him  by  offering  help 
he  didn't  need.  Now  maybe  you  won't  believe  me,  but 
one  of  those  old,  tough  miners  went  over  in  a  faint 
when  at  last  he  got  on  the  top  of  the  earth,  and  fell, 
he  was  so  weak.  That's  what  he  did,  all  right  —  and 
it's  a  wonder  we  all  didn't  give  out,  too.  The  strain 
was  the  limit. 

"  And  what  do  you  think?  He  didn't  have  any  gun 
on  him  at  all !  He  just  gave  us  the  laugh,  and  said  the 
lady  on  Copper  Hill  had  his  gun,  but  he  said  he'd 
shoot  with  what  he  had  —  which  happened  to  be  the 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       219 

lid  of  a  rusty  old  dinner-pail,  and  one  or  two  other 
pieces  of  rusty  mine  junk  —  scrap  iron  or  something, 
which  he  was  pretty  smart  to  find,  as  he  only  had  a  few 
matches.  It's  a  wonder  he  didn't  get  to  his  finish, 
ain't  it  now?  " 

Eleanor  had  no  words  —  it  all  seemed  to  her  so 
cruel  for  this  frail  girl  in  the  shabby  fur  coat  and  the 
turban  with  the  wilted  cotton  flowers. 

"  Say,"  Emily  Corey  at  last  demanded,  "  he  lied 
about  his  gun,  didn't  he?  You  haven't  got  it,  have 
you?" 

For  answer,  Eleanor  went  to  her  desk  and  got  the 
revolver  the  renegade  had  tossed  upon  the  bench  on 
her  porch,  the  night  she  met  him  first.  And  she  ex 
plained,  the  best  she  could,  how  it  happened  to  be  in 
her  possession.  "  And  shall  I  take  the  bullets  out, 
Emily,"  she  asked,  "  or  will  you  have  them  in?  " 

"  Better  take  them  out,"  advised  the  girl,  "  and  I'll 
take  care  of  this  gun  myself  for  a  while  —  he'll  never 
get  it."  She  slipped  the  weapon  into  her  big  pocket, 
and  made  a  motion  to  go. 

But  suddenly  she  dropped  again  onto  the  couch,  and 
looked  at  the  lady  standing  by  her,  looked  at  her  with 
the  shrewdest  scrutiny. 

"  What  is  it,  Emily?  "  asked  her  hostess,  kindly. 

"Maybe  it  would  hurt  your  feelings?"  the  girl 
hesitated. 

"  Not  at  all,"  Eleanor  reassured  her.  "  Whatever 
you  may  wish  to  say  will  not  hurt  me,  unless  you  say  it 
with  the  intent  to  disturb.  What  is  it?  " 

"  I've  never  seen  anybody  like  you,"  the  girl  said 
simply.  "  Excuse  me  for  being  so  sudden,  so  to  put 


220       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

it,  but  how  does  it  happen  that  a  good  woman  and  a 
bad  woman  have  been  together  so  long  as  this,  and 
the  good  one  hasn't  handed  the  other  one  any  religious 
dope  about  trying  to  lead  a  better  life;  how  it  never 
paid  anybody  to  be  bad;  how  I  ought  to  try  to  do  a 
little  honest  work  and  get  back  with  the  right  sort  of 
people  —  and  end  by  throwing  a  flash  light  picture  of 
my  mother  onto  the  screen  made  by  the  other 
remarks  ?  " 

If  Emily  Corey  was  surprised  by  the  absence  of  this 
lecture,  Eleanor  was  more  so  by  the  astonishing  out 
burst  on  the  part  of  her  guest.  She  was  reduced  to 
stillness. 

"Excuse  me?'*  the  girl  pleaded  again,  sincerely. 
"  You  will,  won't  you  ?  But  honest,  you  do  take 
chances !  " 

"  So  I  have  been  told,  before,"  her  hostess  smiled 
back. 

"  Well,  do  excuse  me,  won't  you  ?  "  the  girl  once 
more  begged,  "but  I  can't  get  over  it  —  it's  so  dif 
ferent  from  anything  I  ever  came  up  against  before. 
You  ask  me  in  here,  and  treat  me  like  I  was  somebody 
4  of  your  own  class,'  as  his  folks  call  it.  Do  you  mean 
to  do  that?  " 

And  the  girl  watched  her  with  an  eagerness  that  was 
heart-breaking. 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  your  company,  Emily,"  the  lady 
replied,  having  to  use  all  of  her  resources  not  to  show 
any  emotion,  "  and  any  time  you  will  come  to  see  me,  I 
shall  be  glad.  And  any  time  I  can  do  anything  for  you, 
I  shall  be  even  better  pleased  —  and  I  mean  this." 

The  tired  girl  looked  on  the  verge  of  an  illness, 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       221 

anyway,  and  her  intense  feeling  threatened  to  break 
her  down  right  here,  but  she  kept  a  good  hold  on  her 
self,  and  replied  with  depth,  "  I  wish  I  had  known  you 


sooner." 


"  I  am  glad  to  know  you  now,  Emily,"  Eleanor  said. 
"  And  by  the  way,  you  can  do  something  for  me  if  you 
will.  I  need  a  seamstress  very  much,  and  don't  know 
how  to  go  about  getting  one  in  a  strange  place.  Do 
you  know  anybody?  " 

"  I  can  sew,"  the  girl  promptly  replied.  "  I  make 
all  my  own  clothes,  and  I  can  do  extra  good  embroider 
ing.  I  did  this  handkerchief.  It's  good  enough,  isn't 
it?  "  And  she  held  it  up  for  inspection. 

"  It  is  very  prettily  done,  Emily,"  her  hostess  told 
her.  "  And  I  am  sure  you  can  mend  up  a  lot  of  things 
for  me,  and  make  some  new  aprons  for  Martha.  Will 
you  come  to  me  for  a  few  days'  work?  " 

"  Sure  I  will,"  gladly  agreed  the  girl.  "  I'll  come 
to-morrow.  Is  half  past  eight  too  early?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is,  a  little.  But  come  at  nine  and  you  can 
have  a  cup  of  coffee.  And  now  I  am  going  to  send 
you  home,  Emily,  because  I  am  tired.  I  was  riding 
rather  too  long  to-day,  and  I  am  not  as  strong  as  I 
ought  to  be,  so  you  will  understand?" 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  the  girl,  in  her  own  way 
being  polite. 

"Well,  then  good  night,"  said  Eleanor.  "  And 
don't  forget  to-morrow.  No  —  not  the  back  way ! 
Just  come  over  this  way  to  the  front  door,  please." 

Eleanor  walked  to  the  street  entrance  with  the  girl, 
and  just  as  her  hand  rested  on  the  door-knob,  the  bell 
rang,  startling  them  both. 


222       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Naturally  she  opened  the  door  herself,  and  there 
stood  Dr.  Marsden,  who  seemed  slightly  taken  aback, 
by  the  over-prompt  answer  to  his  ring.  He  stepped 
aside  to  let  Miss  Corey  pass  out,  noting  sharply  her 
features. 

Then  Eleanor  called  good-night  again  in  friendly 
tones,  and  closed  the  door,  with  Dr.  Marsden  inside 
and  Emily  Corey  outside. 

The  doctor  made  no  remarks  upon  the  departing 
caller,  to  Eleanor's  relief,  for  she  was  much  too  tired 
to  feel  like  explaining  her  visitor. 

The  doctor's  visit  promised  to  be  short,  for  he  saw 
instantly  that  the  lady  was  tired.  He  promptly  said 
that  he  had  been  called  to  see  a  sick  child  in  one  of  the 
cabins  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  it  occurred  to  him  to 
come  up  and  say  good-evening  and  see  if  she  got  home 
safely  after  her  ride.  Also,  he  said  (with  just  what 
degree  of  sincerity,  one  could  hardly  say)  that  he  won 
dered  if  an  apology  were  due  her  from  him. 

Eleanor  was  much  too  worn  out  to  care  especially 
whether  the  doctor  wished  to  express  any  regret  for 
his  actions  of  the  afternoon,  or  not,  but  she  was  pleas 
ant  enough  about  it,  and  asked  the  man  to  take  off  his 
coat. 

He,  too,  was  pleasant  and  superficial,  admirably 
disguising  his  real  feelings,  if  he  had  any;  and  shortly 
he  left,  saying  he  thought  rest  would  be  better  for  her 
than  his  society,  and  suggested  the  visit  be  finished  at 
another  time. 

Although  he  made  no  comments,  still  it  was  marked 
enough  to  the  sensitive  Eleanor  that  one  or  two  things 
caught  the  doctor's  attention  —  why,  for  instance,  she 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       223 

was  still  in  riding  dress  at  this  hour  in  the  evening;  and 
what  could  account  for  the  extraordinary  acquaintance 
between  a  woman  like  herself,  and  one  such  as  Emily 
Corey. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

'  I  AHE  Camp  afforded  few  places  of  recreation,  for 
•*•  all  of  its  fifty  thousand  people;  especially  was  this 
true  in  the  winter  months  when  the  little  "White 
City  "  as  they  called  the  public  playground  up  near  the 
foot  of  the  Range,  was  closed  until  the  summer  should 
come  again.  The  Sunday  afternoons  were  a  problem 
in  all  grades  of  society.  The  average  person  who  did 
not  lean  toward  vesper  service  in  one  of  the  churches, 
had  little  to  turn  to  but  the  Lone  Cone. 

Every  Sunday  that  was  at  all  a  possible  day,  either 
winter  or  summer,  saw  a  lot  of  people  working  off 
their  natural  restlessness  by  climbing  up,  and  stumbling 
down  the  sharp,  treeless  sides  of  the  gaunt  Lone  Cone. 
When  they  reached  the  top,  winded  and  fatigued,  they 
sat  about  a  while  on  the  crown  of  rocks  that  finished 
this  relentless  looking  pile  of  lava,  which  had  been 
thrown  up  there  centuries  before.  From  the  south  side 
of  the  Burns  bungalow,  these  Sunday  climbers  looked 
like  busy  little  ants,  madly  scrambling  up  to  the  most 
cheerless  of  places,  to  reflect  upon  an  unrequited  love, 
perhaps. 

Sunday  afternoon,  out  of  golfing  season,  was  a  trying 
time  for  the  bachelors,  who,  as  a  tribe,  had  boycotted 
making  calls  and  all  other  simple,  homely  things. 
When  the  Quartz  Club  got  on  their  nerves,  they  some 
times  wandered  down  to  the  country  club  on  the  Flat, 
where  they  sat  about  the  great  stove  in  the  dining  room, 
telling  each  other  what  they  were  going  to  do  when 

224 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       225 

they  made  enough  money  to  clear  out  of  this  God-for 
saken  country.  Sometimes,  some  desperate  young 
matron  or  some  of  the  girls  found  their  way  down  there 
also,  sooner  than  stay  home  another  minute,  hoping 
for  something  to  happen.  By  dropping  in  at  the  coun 
try  club,  they  stood  a  mild  chance  of  inducing  some 
solemn  cynic  to  come  back  home  for  Sunday  night  tea 
with  them.  But  always  the  Sunday  afternoons  were 
vibrant  with  ill-humours,  the  blues,  introspection, 
good  resolutions,  sceptical  generalities  and  daring 
personalities. 

It  did  not  take  Eleanor  long  to  realise  what  awful 
monsters  Sundays  were  in  the  Camp,  but  she  had 
guarded  against  the  ravages  of  desolation  the  best  she 
could.  This  particular  kindly  winter  Sunday  after 
noon  found  her  away  off  in  the  country  alone,  shooting 
at  moss  patches  on  the  rocks,  and  making  believe  it 
was  a  week  day,  as  usual.  She  was  not  a  member  of 
the  country  club,  so  she  went  there  only  when  invited, 
but  to-day  when  she  rode  by  the  place,  she  felt  lonelier 
than  ever,  and  out  of  everything. 

Inside  the  house,  as  she  passed  by,  were  a  crowd  of 
fellows  and  Mrs.  Cuthbert  and  Mrs.  Peters  gathered 
about  the  stove  in  the  dining  room,  the  only  habitable 
spot  in  the  building  in  winter.  At  the  piano,  back  to 
them,  sat  Miss  Evelyn  Carew,  running  over  some  new 
popular  songs,  the  soft  pedal  down  hard,  while  at  one 
side  of  her  stood  her  boon  companion,  Miss  Margaret 
Page,  and  on  the  other  side,  Barton  Colby  turning 
leaves  —  at  the  wrong  time.  Mr.  Colby  was  of  the 
opinion  that  he  could  not  abide  girls,  but  he  was  so  out 
of  something  better  to  do,  that  he  grimly  welcomed  the 


226       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

post  of  official  leaf-turner.  He  liked  music  —  that's 
why  he  stood  there,  of  course ! 

The  only  hope  of  diversion  for  anybody  seemed  to 
lie  with  a  stranger  among  them,  Lieut.  Montgrove, 
who  was  talking  upon  various  cheering  topics,  the  one 
at  the  moment  being  shipwreck.  Mr.  Montgrove  be 
longed  in  the  merchant-marine  service,  and  was  a  long 
way  from  the  sea;  but  a  furlough,  and  being  Mrs. 
Peters'  brother  explained  this. 

At  last  he  got  everybody's  attention  by  remarking, 
"  Do  you  know  this  place  reminds  me  of  a  ship?  " 

"  It  does?  "  somebody  encouraged  him. 

"  Yes,"  the  lieutenant  went  on,  "  a  ship  on  a  three 
years'  cruise  that  has  been  about  a  hundred  days  out 
of  sight  of  land." 

"  That  is  why  we  take  such  a  vivid  interest  in  each 
other,"  remarked  Miss  Montgomery,  slipping  into  her 
long  fur  coat,  preparatory  to  taking  a  walk  in  the  sun 
shine  on  the  barren  links.  "  We  are  driven  to  it  — 
there  is  nothing  else.  We  all  live  ourselves  to  death, 
over  nothing."  And  there  was  even  greater  depth 
in  her  utterance  than  usual,  as  she  stepped  out  by  way 
of  the  kitchen  door,  braving  the  disapproval  of  the 
China-boy  who  hated  to  have  his  kitchen  used  as  a 
passage  way,  and  who  was  no  more  enthusiastic  over 
Sundays  than  the  club  members,  themselves. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Stella  lately?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Peters. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mrs.  Cuthbert.  "  But  she 
affects  me  as  a  barrel  of  gunpowder  might,  if  some  fool 
flicked  his  cigarette  ashes  into  it  while  I  was  near. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        227 

Let  her  alone,  is  my  advice.     Maybe  she's  in  love?  " 

Everyone  smiled  at  this.  It  must  have  been  some 
sort  of  a  Camp  joke,  Stella's  being  in  love.  All  of  her 
friends  had  tried  to  marry  her  off  to  somebody  or  other, 
but  it  invariably  fell  through.  Men  admired  Stella, 
too,  and  to  most  of  them  she  was  a  staunch  friend. 
But  the  Camp  was  giving  up  hope  on  the  matter  of 
getting  her  settled  in  life. 

"  Funny  about  that  girl,"  drawled  Marsden. 
"  She's  awfully  attractive.  I  have  thought  some  of 
marrying  her,  myself." 

"  You  want  to  think  again,  Doc !  "  suggested  Barton 
Colby,  from  the  piano.  "  She'd  squelch  you  so  hard, 
if  you  ever  proposed  to  her,  that  you'd  be  of  the 
opinion  that  a  steam  roller  had  passed  over  you.  She 
wouldn't  consider  any  one  of  us  for  an  instant." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it?  "  sharply  demanded 
the  doctor. 

But  Mr.  Colby  was  busy  turning  leaves  just  then, 
and  did  not  answer. 

"Why  doesn't  Kerr  marry  her?"  Barry  Vincent 
wanted  to  know.  "  They  say  he  has  been  wild  about 
Stella  for  years." 

"  Oh,  that's  mostly  talk,"  Mrs.  Cuthbert  broke  in. 
44  They've  said  the  same  thing  of  Heilberg,  too,  but 
you  all  know  perfectly  well  that  Heilberg  is  never  go 
ing  to  marry  any  of  the  women  out  here.  He  has  been 
devoted  to  us  all,  in  turn;  but  when  Heilberg  marries 
it  will  be  some  brilliant  New  Yorker,  or  titled  foreigner, 
or  fashionable  actress.  He  is  a  worldling,  from  the 
word  go.  Don't  you  suppose  I  know?  Wasn't  I  en- 


228       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

gaged  to  him,  myself,  for  ten  days  once  —  off  and  on 
—  at  the  St.  John's  house  party  at  the  Springs  eight 
years  ago?  " 

"  Heavens !  "  gasped  Mrs.  Peters.  "  Don't  take  all 
the  glory!  Didn't  the  town  gossips  get  it  well  circu 
lated  when  I  came  out  here,  a  bride,  that  I  was  going 
to  get  a  divorce  so  that  he  might  marry  me  ?  And  all 
because  I  ran  a  few  dinners  for  him,  and  bought  his 
german  favours?" 

"  I've  thought  every  now  and  then,  that  Stella  is 
crushed  on  Thorny  Stone,"  Dr.  Marsden  gave  out  with 
a  puff  of  cigarette  smoke. 

Mr.  Colby  whirled  away  from  the  piano  toward  the 
stove,  and  addressed  Dr.  Marsden,  none  too  gently. 
"  I  have  already  suggested  that  you  think  again,  Doc," 
he  reproved  him.  "  Better  put  a  little  oil  on  the 
wheels,  too  —  something's  working  wrong  in  the  en 
gine.  She  is  very  kind  to  us  all  —  thoughtful  of  our 
comfort  and  all  that,  and  she  mothers  Thorny,  just 
the  way  she  does  the  rest  of  us,  so  you  can  cut  out 
that  idea  —  right  now.  I  know.  See?" 

"  Oh,  excuse  me !  "  pleaded  the  doctor,  partly  dis 
guising  his  annoyance,  by  assuming  a  comic,  mock 
humility.  "  I  didn't  know  I  was  speaking  of  a  special 
friend  of  yours.  Maybe  you  are  the  man  we're  look 
ing  for?  Can  we  congratulate  you?  " 

"  I  regret  to  say  I  have  not  the  honour  to  be  eligible 
for  congratulations,  but  I  envy  the  fellow  who  is," 
Colby  said,  nicely. 

"  I  say,"  spoke  up  young  Barry  Vincent,  as  things 
were  taking  on  a  slight  degree  of  heat,  "  let's  change 
the  subject?  I'd  like  to  get  a  little  gossip  upon  an- 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       229 

other  attractive  woman  —  this  Mrs.  Evanston,  as  you 
all  call  her." 

"  Evanston  —  as  we  all  call  her?"  asked  Mrs. 
Cuthbert,  the  others  all  taking  interest  at  once. 
"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Well,  far  be  it  from  me  to  start  anything,  but  I 
just  thought  I'd  ask  for  a  little  enlightenment,  as  you 
women  seem  to  have  taken  her  up,  and  are  probably  in 
her  confidence."  Then,  with  the  air  of  one  who  has 
information  of  great  import,  he  leisurely  fumbled  for 
his  match  safe,  and  postponed  the  climax. 

"  Barry?  "  Mrs.  Peters  jogged  him  up. 

"  Oh,"  that  young  man  hesitated,  "  nothing  much,  of 
course,  but  Evanston  isn't  her  name,  apparently." 

"  It  isn't?  Well,  then,  what  is  it,  and  how  do  you 
know  so  much,  anyway?"  Mrs.  Cuthbert  eagerly 
inquired. 

"  Well,  it  is  simple  enough,"  Barry  Vincent  went  on. 
"  As  the  paying  teller  in  the  bank,  I  happen  to  know  her 
signature.  Her  money  comes  through  the  Lincoln 
Trust  of  New  York.  Her  name  is  Eleanor  Evan- 
Stone."  Then  Mr.  Vincent  held  the  head  of  his  match 
against  the  stove  until  it  broke  into  flame,  and  complete 
silence  held  for  a  second. 

"  There  is  probably  some  mistake,"  Mr.  Barton 
Colby  vouchsafed. 

"  Hardly  possible,"  indifferently  answered  Mr. 
Barry  Vincent. 

"  There  is  a  popular  theory  that  women  do  all  of 
the  gossiping  in  the  world,"  drolly  added  the  little 
"  squab  "  to  the  catchy  air  of  the  waltz  refrain  she 
was  playing  very  softly. 


230       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Mr.  Colby  smiled  back  at  her,  approvingly. 

"  Well,"  snapped  Mrs.  Peters,  "  you  can  call  this 
what  you  like,  but  personally,  I  think  it  is  a  decided  im 
position  that  any  stranger  should  come  out  here  and 
accept  our  hospitality  under  false  pretences.  My  vote 
is  —  drop  her!  " 

"  Oh,  what  difference  does  it  make?"  put  in  the 
doctor.  "  She  gives  good  dinners." 

"  Barry  evidently  has  not  been  asked  to  one  of 
them,"  the  second  "  squab  "  laughed,  copying  her  play 
mate,  Miss  Carew,  in  adding  her  say-so. 

"  Well,"  young  Vincent  remarked,  with  affected  self- 
pity,  "  I  see  I  haven't  made  a  hit.  Too  bad  I  spoke. 
I  really  didn't  appreciate  that  I  should  be  stirring  up 
any  trouble."  And  he  reached  for  his  coat  which  lay 
on  a  side  table.  '  Tell  Thorny  Stone,  if  he  ever  does 
turn  up  here,  will  you  Doc,  that  I  got  tired  waiting  for 
him,  and  it's  too  late  now  to  play  a  round,  anyway? 
Day-day,  everybody !  " 

But  the  yellow  car  had  not  got  Mr.  Vincent  far  up 
toward  town,  when  Mr.  Stone  appeared  from  another 
direction,  on  his  horse.  He  dismounted,  threw  his 
reins  to  a  caddy,  and  leaped  up  the  back  steps;  nodded 
to  the  Chinaman  and  entered  the  dining  room  —  and 
the  tempest  in  a  tea-pot. 

"  Good  afternoon !  "  he  pleasantly  greeted  them. 
"  Has  anyone  seen  Mrs.  Peters?  Oh  —  here  you  are ! 
I  couldn't  get  an  answer  at  your  house,  and  assumed 
you  might  be  here.  I  have  some  news  for  you  all." 

It  was  unusual,  to  say  the  least,  for  Mr.  Crathorne 
Stone  to  be  so  informal,  and  everyone  paid  flattering  at 
tention  to  him,  all  urging  him  not  to  keep  them  waiting. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        231 

"  You  never  could  guess,"  he  told  them,  almost 
gaily.  "  So  I'll  not  ask  you  to  try.  Carl  Heilberg  is 
coming  back  here  for  a  brief  visit,  and  is  proposing  to 
give  a  ball  on  Thanksgiving  night  at  the  Quartz  Club 
—  a  re-union  for  his  old  friends  and  a  treat  for  his 
new  ones,  not  to  say  a  thunderbolt  for  his  enemies. 
Billy  Leonard  got  a  letter  from  him  yesterday,  asking 
him  to  make  out  the  list  of  guests,  and  see  to  all  the 
details  for  him,  as  he,  himself,  could  not  be  here  until 
the  late  afternoon  of  Thanksgiving.  Billy's  list  was 
to  be  given  to  Mrs.  Peters  to  revise,  as  she  knows  his 
preferences  and  is  an  authority  on  the  newcomers,  and 
so  on.  Billy  was  calkd  over  to  Idaho  on  a  mining 
consultation  this  morning,  and  asked  me  to  bring  his 
list,  or  partial  list,  to  you  promptly." 

"  Are  we  going  to  be  asked?  "  squealed  both  buds  at 
once,  from  the  piano. 

"What  a  surprise!"  gasped  Mrs.  Cuthbert. 

"How  very  nice  of  him!"  Mrs.  Peters  thought, 
reaching  out  for  Captain  Leonard's  neatly  written 
sheets,  which  Mr.  Stone  took  from  his  inside  coat 
pocket. 

Mrs.  Peters  spread  the  list  out  on  the  table,  all  the 
people  there  gathering  around  her,  and  looking  on 
and  making  remarks  all  at  once.  Quite  a  hub-bub 
reigned,  during  which  Mr.  Stone  stood  alone  by  the 
stove,  toasting  his  fingers. 

As  would  be  expected  of  Captain  Leonard,  the  list 
was  alphabetically  arranged;  and  together  they  all 
looked  over  the  names.  The  A's  were  all  right,  but 
Billy  had  overlooked  the  Allbrights. 

"  Has  anybody  a  pencil?  "  asked  Mrs.  Peters. 


232       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Dr.  Marsden  offered  his  fountain  pen,  and  the  name 
was  inserted.  The  B's  and  C's  and  D's  all  brought 
forth  pleasant  remarks  and  slight  corrections.  The 
next  was  E.  With  her  finger,  Mrs.  Peters,  the  only 
one  who  was  seated,  ran  down  the  line.  The  Erms- 
tons  —  fine  !  —  Mr.  Emerson  —  surely !  —  the  Misses 
Ernest  —  of  course !  Had  there  ever  been  a  party 
without  them  ?  No  escape !  And  the  next  was  Evans- 
ton  —  Mrs.  Evanston. 

Mrs.  Peters  sat  up  straight,  and  those  close  to  her 
fell  back  a  little,  as  she  deliberately  drew  the  pen 
through  this  name.  "  I  fancy  the  ball  can  do  without 
the  honour  of  '  Mrs.  Evanston's  '  presence,"  was  all 
that  she  said. 

It  had  a  quieting  effect  on  everyone  —  nobody  knew 
what  to  say  at  this  decided  action.  Young  Colby 
wanted  to  champion  the  lady,  but  it  seemed  to  be  the 
wrong  time.  He  shot  an  inquiring  glance  at  his  friend 
Mr.  Stone,  but  he  got  no  ideas  from  that  young  man. 
Mr.  Stone  stood  motionless;  there  was  nothing  to  be 
deducted  from  his  expression.  His  drawn  eyelids 
might  have  indicated  nothing  more  than  that  the  light 
was  too  strong. 

Extreme  uneasiness  was  averted  by  the  entrance  of 
Miss  Montgomery,  who  decided  she  had  had  enough 
exercise  —  when  she  turned  once  and  saw  Mr.  Stone's 
fine  horse  Jack-O,  at  the  club  house. 

"Hello?"  she  said,  noting  instantly  the  difference 
in  the  tone  of  the  gathering  from  that  which  it  had 
when  she  left  it,  half  an  hour  before.  "  What's  go 
ing  on  —  a  party?  " 

"  O  Stella !  "  gasped  Mrs.  Peters,  full  to  bursting 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       233 

with  importance,  u  what  do  you  think  has  happened? 
Dear  old  Carl  is  coming  back  here  after  these  three 
long  years,  on  business  for  a  few  days,  and  is  giving  us 
a  ball  on  Thanksgiving.  Isn't  that  just  like  him?  " 

Miss  Montgomery  smiled  pleasantly,  but  did  not  ex 
press  any  emotion,  to  Mrs.  Peters'  dismay. 

"  Aren't  you  surprised?  "  she  demanded  of  the  com 
placent  girl.  "  He  wants  me  to  revise  the  list,  too." 

"  So  he  wrote  me,"  calmly  responded  Miss  Mont 
gomery. 

"  So  he  wrote  you?  Mercy!  Do  you  hear  from 
him  often?  "  This  Mrs.  Peters  got  off  with  a  touch 
of  something  not  quite  soothing. 

"  N-no,"  acknowledged  Miss  Montgomery.  "  Not 
often.  May  I  see  the  list?  " 

She  glanced  over  the  names,  then  looked  up  sharply, 
saying,  "  May  I  ask  what  this  means  —  the  line 
through  Mrs.  Evanston's  name?" 

"  It  means  that  we  don't  care  to  continue  an  ac 
quaintance  with  any  woman  who  represents  herself  to 
be  one  person,  and  who  happens  to  be  another!" 
grandly  replied  Mrs.  Cuthbert,  speaking  up  for  her 
friend  Mrs.  Peters,  who  found  no  answer  immediately. 

"And  where  did  you  get  this  idea?"  Miss  Mont 
gomery  further  questioned,  not  at  all  losing  her 
temper. 

"  It  is  a  matter  that  can  be  confirmed  by  the  Miners' 
National  Bank,"  Mrs.  Peters  replied,  caustically. 
"  Her  name  is  Evan-Stone,  but  she  lives  as  Mrs. 
Evanston." 

"How  interesting!"  coldly  remarked  Miss  Mont 
gomery.  "A  slight  miss-spelling,  I  suppose?" 


234       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  So?  "  Dr.  Marsden  cut  in.  "  Apparently  you  are 
familiar  with  the  lady's  real  name  ?  " 

"  What  a  marvellous  Pinkerton  the  world  missed, 
Doctor,  when  you  went  in  for  medicine !  "  said  Miss 
Montgomery.  "  I  am  quite  familiar  with  the  name  — 
in  fact  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  anyone  would  be  so 
stupid  as  to  assume  it  was  ever  spelled  as  it  is  pro 
nounced.  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  I  have  understood  it 
from  the  first.  In  fact,  I  think  I  have  one  of  Mrs. 
Evan-Stone's  cards  in  my  purse."  She  opened  her 
silver  bag,  and  leisurely  took  out  the  card  the  lady 
had  given  her  the  night  she  had  dined  at  the  bungalow; 
the  card  she  had  felt  at  that  time,  she  might  have  to  use 
some  day.  And  she  idly  tossed  it  onto  the  table,  say 
ing,  "  I  think  the  line  through  Evan-Stone's  name  had 
best  be  removed." 

"That  line  stays  on  my  revised  list!"  hotly  in 
sisted  Mrs.  Peters.  "  I  think  it  high  time  that  we, 
as  a  community,  were  being  a  little  more  conservative 
in  regard  to  strangers  and  possible  impostors." 

Miss  Montgomery  handed  back  the  list,  without  a 
ripple  of  irritation,  rather  more  than  could  be  said  of 
the  others.  "  I  should  not  think  of  presuming  to  alter 
your  list,"  she  remarked,  "  and  I  apologise  for  my 
suggestion." 

Silence  fell  upon  them  all,  as  Miss  Montgomery 
walked  up  to  the  telephone  instrument  on  the  wall, 
registered  a  number  and  pressed  the  button.  "  Is 
this  the  Western  Union  Telegraph  Company?"  she 
asked.  "Yes?  Very  well.  Please  take  a  message? 
And  charge  it  to  Miss  Stella  Montgomery,  795  Bryn 
Mawr  Avenue.  You  have  the  name?  Very  well. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        235 

To  Carl  Heilberg,  The  Waldorf,  New  York.  Please 
send  card  to  ball,  special  delivery,  to  Mrs.  Evan-Stone, 
Copper  Hill.  Sign  it,  Stella  Montgomery.  Now  re 
peat  it  to  me,  please?  Thank  you  —  correct.  Good- 
bye." 

Then  she  quietly  hung  up  the  receiver,  and  turned 
to  the  kitchen  door  and  called  the  China-boy,  saying  to 
him  when  he  appeared  —  in  the  most  natural  of  tones 
—  "  Hong  Ty,  can't  you  make  us  some  tea?  " 

Mr.  Crathorne  Stone,  except  for  being  rather  pale, 
seemed  to  take  no  intimate  interest  in  the  scene  that 
had  just  been  enacted.  If  he  had  had  any  suspicions 
concerning  the  real  identity  of  this  woman  that  the 
Camp  had  been  busying  itself  about  for  the  past  six 
weeks,  he  certainly  knew  all  that  was  necessary  now. 
This  was  she  —  the  Mrs.  Evan-Stone. 

When  the  opportunity  came,  he  left,  refusing  a  cup 
of  tea,  even  though  it  was  offered  him  by  Miss  Mont 
gomery,  whom  he  admired  immensely  for  her  quiet 
independence,  and  kindliness  toward  a  woman  when 
that  woman  stood  in  need  of  a  friend.  But  then,  he 
had  had  a  long  and  serious  talk  recently  with  Miss 
Montgomery,  and  they  understood  each  other  well. 

There  was  noise  enough  with  all  the  chatter,  to  ad 
mit  of  his  saying  a  word  alone  with  her,  in  passing. 
"  Tell  me,"  he  asked  warmly;  "tell  me,  what  did 
you  send  that  telegram  for?  " 

She  closed  her  sorrowful  blue  eyes  before  he  should 
see  the  tears,  and  she  said  simply  and  honestly,  "  I  did 
it  —  for  you." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MONTGOMERY  was  a  Westerner,  born 
and  trained;  therefore  Miss  Montgomery  knew 
the  value  of  bluff.  Also,  she  was  a  square  type  of 
woman,  who  when  she  made  a  mistake,  at  once  bent  her 
undivided  effort  toward  rectifying  it  as  far  as  was  pos 
sible.  She  had  advised  Mrs.  Evanston,  or  rather 
Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  badly,  and  she  was  sorry  —  but  not 
beaten.  She  thought  things  out  clearly  and  acted  as 
would  have  become  a  diplomatist.  She  called  Mrs. 
Evan-Stone,  bright  and  early  on  Monday  morning, 
with  a  direct  question  as  a  start. 

"  Have  I  a  private  line,  you  ask?  "  repeated  Eleanor. 
"  Why,  yes,  I  think  so.  But  why?  " 

"  I  want  to  talk  over  a  private  matter  with  you," 
Miss  Montgomery  explained,  "  and  what  I  want  to  say 
is  that  we  quite  overlooked  the  fact  of  the  bank's  prob 
ably  having  your  signature,  and  if  this  is  the  case,  it 
would  be  a  mistake  to  go  on  letting  everybody  suppose 
your  name  to  be  spelled  as  it  is  pronounced,  as  we  de 
cided  to  do  —  you  remember  ?  It  would  be  best,  in  my 
opinion,  for  you  to  anticipate  all  comment  by  using 
your  regular  visiting  cards.  Do  you  owe  any  of  the 
women  here  a  call?" 

"  Only  Mrs.  Peters,  I  think,"  Eleanor  replied.  "  I 
meant  to  have  returned  that  call  last  week,  but  neg 
lected  it.  Of  course  the  bank  has  my  signature  —  I 
never  thought  of  this,  stupidly." 

44  Suppose  you  call  on  Mrs.  Peters  this  afternoon? 

236 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       237 

And  send  in  your  card,  and  refer  to  yourself,  or  your 
connections,  as  Evanston,  never  intimating  in  any  way 
that  there  is  the  least  discrepancy  between  the  two 
names?  It  would  be  the  most  natural  way  to  make 
the  correction,  and  it  occurs  to  me  that  the  sooner  you 
attend  to  this,  the  better.  You  remember  you  asked 
my  advice  in  the  beginning?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  will  do  this  right  away,  if  you  think 
best;  and  I  greatly  appreciate  your  interest,  Miss  Mont 
gomery.  I  can't  say  how  good  it  is  of  you.  But  I 
hope  nothing  unpleasant  has  come  up?  " 

"  Oh  no !  "  suavely  Miss  Montgomery  perverted  the 
simple  truth.  "  But  I  fear  something  may  be  said 
sooner  or  later.  The  clerks  in  the  banks,  you  know, 
are  fellows  one  meets  everywhere." 

"  I  will  do  this  to-day,  even  if  I  give  up  my  ride  to 
get  it  in.  I  wish  you  rode,  Miss  Montgomery.  But 
can't  we  take  some  walks  together?  " 

"  That  would  be  very  pleasant.  How  about  this 
afternoon,  after  you  make  that  call?  I'll  meet  you  at 
the  drug  store  two  blocks  from  the  Peters'  house,  at 
four." 

"  Yes.     Good-bye." 

Then  Miss  Stella  Montgomery  registered  a  new 
number  —  that  of  Mrs.  St.  John.  "  Henrietta?  "  she 
recognised  her  friend.  "  Henrietta,  dear,  you  are 
having  company  for  luncheon.  And  this  afternoon 
you  are  detaining  your  guest  until  after  four  o'clock.  I 
don't  care  what  you  do  —  drive,  play  bridge,  go  out 
making  calls,  or  fancy  work  —  but  she's  yours  for  the 
afternoon.  I  will  explain  later,  but  I  want  you  to  do 
this  for  me.  And  do  it!  " 


238       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"Stella,  have  you  gone  crazy?"  interrupted  Mrs. 
St.  John. 

"  No,  but  you  do  this  for  me,  Henrietta !  Get  that 
two-by-four  Gertrude  Peters  to  tell  you  what  took  place 
at  our  usually  peaceful  country  club  yesterday  after 
noon.  You  missed  the  time  of  your  life.  Tell  her 
you  want  to  know  if  it  is  really  true  that  Carl  is  coming 
back  for  a  few  days,  and  going  to  give  a  ball.  Insist 
that  she  must  come  to  lunch." 

"What?  Carl  Heilberg  coming  back?  What  do 
you  mean,  Stella?  "  she  fairly  screamed  at  her. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Henrietta,  hasn't  that  news 
got  to  you,  yet?  And  you,  the  town  information 
bureau?  " 

"  Stella  Montgomery,  you  know  perfectly  well  I 
never  hear  a  thing  that  is  going  on,  except  from  you !  " 

"  Well,  you'll  hear  enough  from  Gertrude  Peters, 
let  me  tell  you.  But  you  stand  up  for  me,  Henrietta 
• — •  don't  forget  you  are  for  me,  no  matter  what  side 
you  find  me  on?  "  she  pleaded,  quaintly. 

"  You  may  feel  at  ease  about  that,  Stella,  but  I 
shall  perish  of  curiosity  if  you  don't  tell  me  what  is 
going  on !  " 

'*  You  can  find  out  all  you  want  to  know  from 
Gertrude  Peters,  Henrietta,  if  you  hurry  and  get  her 
before  she  goes  out  to  market.  Will  you?  " 

"  Yes,  Stella,  I'll  ask  her  to  lunch  and  keep  her  all 
afternoon,  if  I  have  to  chloroform  her  —  if  you  will 
ever  stop  talking,  so  I  can  call  her.  Good-bye." 

And  the  plan  worked  itself  out  well. 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  having  called  on  Mrs.  Peters 
while  Mrs.  Peters  was  out  (as  Miss  Montgomery  had 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        239 

planned)  remained  in  peaceful  ignorance  of  the  fact 
that  the  mention  of  her  affairs  had  already  come  up. 
And  the  only  thing  that  could  be  done  to  set  things 
swinging  truly  again,  had  been  done  without  injury  to 
anybody's  feelings. 

Miss  Stella  Montgomery  needed  the  walk  she  and 
Eleanor  took  together,  to  refresh  her  after  a  fairly 
arduous  time.  And  as  for  Mrs.  Peters  and  Mrs.  St. 
John,  they  were  at  that  time  planning  new  gowns  for 
the  great  social  event  —  the  Thanksgiving  ball. 

But  while  Miss  Montgomery's  prompt  and  intelli 
gent  action  had  aided  the  Camp  life  to  level  down  once 
more  to  its  even  tenor,  still,  it  by  no  means  stopped  the 
talk,  or  guaranteed  the  matter  settled.  Everybody 
was  buzzing  about  retailing  the  discovery  of  the  differ 
ence  in  "  Mrs.  Evanston's  "  two  names,  and  for  the 
only  time  on  record,  so  far  as  even  the  pioneers  could 
judge,  somebody  divided  the  honours  with  Mr.  Carl 
Heilberg  in  holding  the  public  attention.  It  was  all 
so  very  absorbing,  that  the  "  squabs  "  quite  forgot  to 
experience  their  customary  "  worlds  of  thrills  "  at  hav 
ing  been  close  enough  to  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  on  Sun 
day  afternoon,  to  have  been  introduced  after  all  their 
waiting  for  this  crisis  —  and  now  were  merely  discus 
sing  new  frocks,  having  ascertained  beyond  all  doubt 
that  their  names  were  on  the  list  of  Mr.  Heilberg's 
guests. 

In  fact,  the  only  women  in  the  Camp  who  were  not  in 
an  excited  state,  were  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  who  cared  lit 
tle  or  nothing  about  receiving  a  card,  and  who  had 
plenty  of  appropriate  gowns  waiting  patiently  to  be 
worn  —  and  Miss  Stella  Montgomery,  whose  gown 


240       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

for  this  ball  had  been  designed  a  month  before,  and 
now  awaited  her  in  Chicago  for  fittings. 

To-day  she  told  Eleanor,  with  a  smile,  that  the  Camp 
would  ostracise  her  if  it  ever  got  wind  of  the  fact  that 
she  knew  what  Mr.  Heilberg  intended  to  do,  weeks 
ago!  She  also  had  been  asked  to  attend  to  the  list 
and  plans,  herself,  but  had  suggested  Mrs.  Peters  and 
Captain  Leonard,  thinking  it  would  be  better  so,  all 
around. 

4  Then  you  are  very  good  friends,  you  and  Mr. 
Heilberg?  "  Eleanor  asked,  more  because  of  some 
thing  to  say  than  because  she  was  purely  inquisitive. 

"  He  treats  me  as  though  I  were  a  child,"  Stella  said. 
41  At  sixteen  it  fretted  me  exceedingly  —  now,  1  am 
grateful  for  it."  And  she  seemed  to  have  no  more  to 
say  on  the  subject. 

Even  the  men  about  town  had  more  to  say  about 
this  ball,  than  they  generally  wasted  on  such  affairs, 
because  of  the  man  giving  it.  There  were  plenty  of 
people  in  the  community  who  were  insulted  (so  they 
said)  at  Heilberg's  impertinence  at  supposing  they 
would  greet  him  on  his  return,  but  who  softened  as 
the  time  drew  nearer,  dreading  to  be  quite  out  of  the 
little  that  was  going  on  in  the  Camp.  They  agreed  (to 
themselves)  for  this  one  evening,  to  overlook  the  slight 
matter  of  his  having  got  them  in  for  all  they  were 
worth  "  on  the  ground  floor  "  of  some  of  his  enter 
prises,  which  seemed  to  have  kept  him  in  Europe  very 
comfortably  ever  since  —  and  which  had  kept  them 
tied  down  in  the  Camp  pretty  steadily  —  ever  since. 

"Oh,  Carl's  all  right!"  insisted  Dr.  Marsden,  at 
the  time  Captain  Leonard's  guest  at  a  poker  party  at 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       241 

Suite  5,  Quartz  Club  Building.  u  His  heart's  in  the 
right  place,  and  he  isn't  exactly  crooked  —  he's  just 
shrewd." 

"  He's  all  of  that  certainly,"  remarked  the  Cap 
tain,  thinking  of  five  hundred  shares  of  "  Baltimore 
and  Montana  Extension  "  that  he  had  always  meant 
to  convert  into  lamp  lighters  for  his  aged  grand 
mother,  who  considered  the  modern  use  of  matches, 
prodigal. 

"  He  played  this  Camp  for  all  that  was  in  it,  but 
Lord !  we  used  to  have  a  lively  time  in  those  good  old 
days !  Something  doing  every  minute !  "  sighed  Mr. 
St.  John.  "  If  it  wasn't  a  mob  of  disgruntled  miners 
looking  for  Heilberg  with  a  rope,  why  it  was  a  din 
ner  party  with  gold  souvenirs  for  the  ladies,  and  vin 
tage  champagne  as  free  as  the  town  pump.  There 
was  a  row  outside  once  when  he  had  a  lot  of  us  at  his 
house,  and  he  simply  stepped  out  on  the  porch  and 
told  the  strikers  he  appreciated  exactly  how  they  felt, 
and  he'd  adjust  their  troubles  in  the  morning  —  to 
come  around  to  the  office  in  business  hours.  And  so 
they  dispersed  —  a  favour  they  never  would  have 
granted  any  other  man  on  earth!  And  we've  been  a 
collection  of  dead-ones  ever  since  he  left." 

"  I  am  looking  forward  to  seeing  him,"  remarked 
Mr.  Crathorne  Stone,  from  the  other  side  of  the  room. 
"  I  got  here  after  he  had  left  the  place,  and  I  have  al 
ways  felt  I  missed  a  lot." 

"  You  would  have  missed  it,  all  right,  if  it  had  been 
money  you  had  any  wild  idea  of  doubling  in  some  of 
Heilberg's  schemes,"  dryly  commented  Mr.  Barton 
Colby. 


242       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  He  wasn't  bad  —  he  was  clever,  I  tell  you,"  again 
the  doctor  defended  him. 

"  Doc  isn't  an  investor,"  explained  Mr.  Colby  to  the 
room  in  general.  "  He  wisely  avoids  the  ground  floor 
because  the  elevator  always  goes  to  the  basement  with 
him  in  it  —  he's  a  second  story  worker,  and  puts  his 
money  into  things  you  can't  get  away  from  him  — 
mint  juleps,  experience  and  dope  like  that." 

'  Well,  cutting  me  out,  and  returning  to  the  subject 
of  the  ball,"  Dr.  Marsden  undertook  to  change  the 
topic,  "  did  the  women  get  their  fracas  fixed  up  ?  My ! 
But  the  temperature  ran  high  at  the  country  club  Sun 
day  afternoon!  I  expected  hair-pulling  any  min 
ute."  And  Dr.  Marsden  lighted  a  fresh  cigar,  and 
waited. 

"  I  am  sure  we  shall  all  be  very  glad  to  see  Mrs. 
Evanston,"  remarked  Mr.  Colby,  coldly,  although  the 
coldness  was  directed  at  the  doctor,  not  at  the  prospect 
of  seeing  Mrs.  Evan-Stone. 

"  Well,  I  fancy  she  is  a  nice  little  woman,  but  I  have 
wondered  how  the  women  would  like  it,  if  they  knew 
who  some  of  her  friends  are,"  the  doctor  went  on,  with 
apparent  indifference.  "  She  is  pretty  thick  with  that 
Corey  woman.  It  is  none  of  my  business,  of  course, 
but  I  thought  it  strange." 

Mr.  Stone  rose  and  whirled  toward  the  card  table, 
not  being,  himself  one  of  the  players,  and  with  a  quiet 
voice  that  suggested  trouble  to  follow,  he  addressed 
Dr.  Marsden.  "  You  are  not  my  guest  this  evening, 
Doctor,"  he  began  formally,  "  so  I  shall  not  express 
myself  as  fully  as  I  would,  had  I  invited  you  to  come 
here.  But  this  much  I  wish  to  recall  to  your  mind: 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       243 

There  is  a  rule  in  this  club  that  no  woman,  or  her  af 
fairs,  shall  be  discussed  under  this  roof.  This  rule,  so 
far  as  I  have  observed  in  my  two  years'  membership, 
until  this  evening,  has  been  pretty  conscientiously  re 
spected." 

"I  thought  we  were  in  a  private  apartment  — 
bachelor  quarters,"  suggested  Dr.  Marsden,  rising. 

"  This  rule  holds  good  under  the  entire  club  roof," 
firmly  announced  Mr.  Stone. 

"  Oh !  "  sneered  the  doctor,  unpleasantly.  "  If  you 
are  running  a  ladies'  aid  society  here,  why,  I  propose 
we  adjourn  to  Colby's  rooms  and  finish  the  game. 
Perhaps  we  disturb  your  reading?  " 

"  Not  for  mine,  thanks,"  Mr.  Colby  himself  ac 
knowledged  the  idea.  u  I  stand  with  Stone,  and  I'd 
like  to  add  that  I  don't  like  your  talk,  and  I  question 
your  authority  to  make  any  such  statement  as  you 
have." 

"  You  certainly  overlook  the  fact  that  you  are  speak 
ing  of  a  lady  who  has  given  us  all  pleasure  by  her 
charming  society,  and  whom  everybody  has  been  glad 
to  welcome  among  us,"  moderately  joined  in  the  host, 
Captain  Leonard,  who  looked  utterly  distressed  to  see 
his  party  breaking  up  in  such  revolutionary  style. 

"  I  don't  know  who  this  '  Corey  woman  '  is,  but  — " 
Mr.  Stone  got  no  farther. 

"  You  might  ask  that  gutter-rat,  Ortman,  who  long 
ago  got  kicked  out  of  the  clubs  around  here,  who  she 
is;  you  might  ask  any  one  of  half  a  dozen  others,  who 
Emily  Corey  is  —  I  guess  they  will  tell  you !  "  the  doc 
tor  replied,  hotly. 

"  You    seem    to   know   her    pretty   well,    yourself, 


244       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Doc!  "  sweetly  ventured  Colby,  hoping  to  get  some 
body  to  be  a  little  lighter  in  manner. 

"  I  have  attended  her,  professionally,"  the  man  an 
swered.  "I  was  called  to  her  this  evening  —  high 
temperature  and  bad  cold  together  with  a  general  run 
down  condition,  and  may  develop  into  pneumonia. 
You  will  find  the  patient  at  present  in  a  cot  in  Mrs. 
Evanston's  —  or  Evan-Stone's  bed  room.  I  am  sorry 
to  have  stirred  up  a  rough-house.  Good-night." 

"  I  think  if  you  fellows  will  excuse  me,"  young 
Colby  quickly  decided  as  the  door  slammed  to  after 
the  angry  Dr.  Marsden,  whose  manner  upon  leaving 
implied  he  felt  he  had  been  much  too  severely  dealt 
with,  on  the  whole,  "  I  think  I  will  stick  with  the  doc 
tor  a  little  while.  I  want  to  remind  him  that  it  is  not 
professional  for  a  physician  to  talk  too  much. 
I'd  hate  to  have  him  stop  down-stairs  in  his  present 
humour.  So-long,  everybody!  "  And  the  door 
banged  after  the  boy. 

Captain  Leonard  and  Mr.  Stone  were  looking  at  Mr. 
St.  John,  closely,  these  three  being  all  that  were  left  of 
the  poker  party. 

"  Don't  worry,"  calmly  said  Mr.  St.  John.  "  I'm 
married,  I  know,  but  I  am  not  going  to  burst  in  and 
wake  my  wife  with  a  graphic  description  of  this  session, 
gentlemen.  Nothing  can  be  got  out  of  me  —  not  even 
with  a  jimmy.  But  it's  a  queer  deal,  to  say  the  least, 
Mrs.  Evanston's  being  so  friendly  with  such  a  char 
acter,  isn't  it?  Good-night." 

"When  is  this  infernal  ball  coming  off?"  sharply 
asked  Mr.  Stone  of  his  companion,  when  St.  John's 
footsteps  were  lost  to  hearing  down  the  hall. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       245 

"  Thanksgiving  —  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  — 
why?" 

"  I'm  thinking  —  who  is  the  agent  for  that  Burns 
bungalow?"  Mr.  Stone  next  inquired. 

"Why,"  Billy  Leonard  reflected,  "there  are  only 
two  real  estate  firms  here  of  any  consequence  —  I  sup 
pose  one  of  them  has  that  house  —  why?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  replied  Mr.  Stone. 

"  I  am  thinking,  too,  Thorny,"  announced  the  Cap 
tain.  "  I'd  like  to  know  why  you  concern  yourself  with 
the  troubles  of  some  woman  you  wouldn't  stir  an  inch 
to  meet?  It's  really  most  interesting  to  me." 

"  It's  interesting  to  me,  too,  old  man,"  Mr.  Cra- 
thorne  Stone  acknowledged,  with  strong  feeling,  held 
down  hard.  "  I  attribute  it  partly  to  habit,  partly  to 
every  man's  duty  —  but  principally  to  the  fact  that  at 
one  time  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  was  nty  wife."  Then  he 
lighted  a  cigarette,  with  the  appearance  of  perfect  calm, 
although  his  hand  trembled  slightly,  and  he  turned  his 
face  away  from  his  friend. 

The  silence  was  positively  oppressive.  Mr.  Stone 
stood  it  until  he  recovered  absolute  control  of  his  ex 
pression,  and  he  went  on  standing  it  as  long  afterward 
as  he  could.  Then  he  addressed  Captain  Leonard  with 
a  simple,  "Well?" 

"  Well,"  said  Captain  Leonard,  "  I  was  just  wonder 
ing,  as  I  stood  here,  if  my  astonishment  made  me  look 
like  the  straw-man  in  the  Wizard  of  Oz." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

'TpHURSDAY  came  in  due  time  —  Thanksgiving 
-*•  Day  with  nice  deep  snow,  and  all  the  dress 
makers  worn  to  a  thread,  not  having  stopped  long 
enough  to  get  a  bite  of  turkey,  some  of  them,  while 
messenger  boys  were  hurrying  about  with  big  boxes  for 
the  town's  fashionables.  The  florists  were  in  a  flurry, 
too,  because  the  dressmakers  kept  the  messenger  boys 
so  busy. 

The  club  house  was  a  wonderful  tribute  to  u  floral 
art."  The  immense  dining  room  looked  like  the  in 
side  of  a  royal  bower  in  a  story  book,  the  high  ceiling 
being  covered  entirely  with  autumn  leaves  fetched  from 
a  distance,  and  the  chandeliers  were  lost  in  trailing  vines 
and  flowers.  And  the  walls  also  were  covered  by 
leaves  held  on  lattices.  The  great  reception  hall  and 
the  rooms  off  it  down-stairs  were  so  lovely  that  the 
Camp  flock  of  reporters  was  forced  to  hesitate  for 
words. 

The  ladies'  rooms  were  peeped  into  also,  and  on  the 
centre  table  were  three  colossal  boxes  containing,  so  the 
boy  at  the  desk  told  the  society  reporters,  the  bouquets 
for  the  reception  committee.  Instantly  he  was  ques 
tioned,  "  Who  were  the  ladies  receiving  for  Mr.  Heil- 
berg?" 

"  Well,  now  you've  got  me,"  the  boy  confessed. 
"  Mr.  Heilberg  didn't  get  in  until  the  late  afternoon, 
and  he  went  up  to  his  rooms  here  at  once  and  said  he 
wanted  to  rest  —  not  to  ring  his  bell."  So  the  re- 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        247 

porters  had  to  await  developments,  as  they  themselves, 
would  have  expressed  it.  The  newspaper  representa 
tives  were  not,  by  any  means,  the  only  people  who 
wanted  to  know  the  names  of  the  receiving  ladies. 
Mrs.  Peters  had  spent  most  of  five  dollars  trying  to 
catch  Carl  Heilberg  by  wire  to  ask  him  if  he  wished 
her  to  arrange  this  point,  also;  but  no  word  ever  got 
to  him,  so  swiftly  did  he  move  about  from  place  to 
place  when  once  he  started  West. 

Stella  Montgomery  had  intimated,  rather  top-loftily, 
Mrs.  Peters  and  several  of  her  friends  had  agreed,  that 
she  was  in  Mr.  Heilberg's  confidence  —  perhaps  she 
knew  what  he  intended  to  do?  Possibly  he  meant  to 
ask  the  first  few  women  who  arrived?  This  was  the 
spontaneous  way  he  used  to  do  things  in  the  good  old 
days.  They  would  ask  Stella,  whom  they  had  ex 
pected  home  the  day  before. 

But  as  late  as  three  o'clock,  there  was  no  answer  at 
Stella's.  There  was  no  maid,  and  the  old  aunt,  being 
very  deaf,  never  heard  the  bells.  Stella  had  gone  to 
Chicago  ten  days  before,  ostensibly  to  see  another  aunt 
who  ^vas  ill,  but  Mrs.  Peters  and  the  rest  knew  perfectly 
weU  she  went  largely  to  get  something  new  to  wear 
to  this  ball. 

When  superintending  the  final  touches  to  the  decora 
tions,  Mrs.  Peters  had  asked  Mrs.  Cuthbert  to  try  1418 
again.  She,  herself,  was  still  on  rather  stiff  terms  with 
Stella,  as  the  result  of  their  recent  tiff  at  the  country 
club,  and  she  did  not  care  to  defer  to  her  in  person  — 
naturally. 

Mrs.  Cuthbert  had  come  out  of  the  booth  once  more, 
and  reported  that  Henrietta  St.  John  had  answered  — 


248       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

that  she  was  there,  helping  Stella  unpack,  as  the  train 
had  been  several  hours  delayed  by  snow  drifts;  and 
Stella,  being  pretty  tired,  begged  not  to  be  called  from 
the  couch.  Stella  sent  a  message,  however,  to  the  ef 
fect  that  she  did  not  have  a  word  of  enlightenment  to 
offer  concerning  the  ladies  who  were  to  receive. 

Then  Mesdames  Peters  and  Cuthbert  gave  it  up, 
and  resigned  themselves  to  waiting. 

"Well,"  sighed  Mrs.  Cuthbert,  tightening  her  fur 
at  her  throat,  when  the  chill  air  struck  them  outside  the 
Quartz  Club  Building,  "  there  is  one  thing  to  be  thank 
ful  for  —  we  are  in  luck  to  be  allowed  to  use  the 
ground  floor  of  this  club.  I  don't  know  of  another 
man's  club  in  the  country  that  permits  it,  do  you?  It 
gives  us  somewhere  to  go  for  a  cup  of  tea,  when  every 
thing  else  fails  us.  But  I  prophesy  that  the  Camp  has 
never  before  seen  anything  to  equal  the  grandeur  of 
Stella  Montgomery  to-night!  I  wager  she  has  spent 
every  cent  that  was  left  of  her  father's  estate  on  a 
dress  to  dazzle  us.  She  isn't  going  to  let  Heilberg  see 
that  she  has  faded  away,  pining  for  him  these  past  few 
years.  I  wonder  what  colour  her  gown  will  be?  Red 
—  screaming  red,  perhaps  —  he  used  to  like  her  in  red 
when  she  was  a  fresh  little  girl." 

"  Possibly  she  won't  be  so  overpoweringly  stunning, 
dear  —  maybe  her  trunk  didn't  come,"  soothingly  sug 
gested  Mrs.  Peters. 

"  Don't  you  think  it!  "  Mrs.  Cuthbert  called  back, 
for  they  were  going  different  ways  at  the  corner. 
"  Stella  would  have  got  that  new  dress  here,  if  she  had 
had  to  carry  the  trunk  herself  all  the  way  from  St. 
Paul." 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       249 

At  a  quarter  to  ten  the  first  carriage  drove  up  to  the 
Quartz  Club,  and  two  ladies  and  two  men  got  out. 
They  went  to  their  dressing  rooms,  and  joined  each 
other  shortly  in  the  reception  hall.  Nobody  was  pres 
ent  to  receive  them,  but  the  club  attendants  and  the  boy 
at  the  desk. 

Five  minutes  more,  and  another  carriage  stopped. 
The  first  arrivals  greeted  the  second  arrivals,  but  still 
nobody  else  was  in  evidence.  None  of  the  men  living 
at  the  club  had  appeared,  preferring  their  own  haunts 
up-stairs  until  the  last  moment,  always. 

Another  fifteen  minutes  or  so,  and  some  twenty  or 
more  people  wandered  about  the  various  roms,  chat 
ting.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peters  soon  put  in  their  appear 
ance,  quickly  followed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cuthbert  and 
Mr.  St.  John,  whose  wife  had  begged  to  be  excused 
after  dinner,  as  she  had  promised  to  run  over  to  Stel 
la's  apartment  and  hook  her  up,  Stella's  aunt  being  so 
nervous  always,  when  trying  to  get  Stella  ready  for  a 
function.  She  was  to  come  with  Stella  in  a  few  mo 
ments. 

A  pleasant  hum  of  voices  was  heard  now,  intermin 
gled  with  the  sounds  of  tuning  up  the  orchestra;  and 
all  of  a  sudden  Mr.  Heilberg  was  seen  coming  down 
the  broad  staircase,  all  smiles  and  apologies  for  having 
been  detained  on  business  up  in  the  library.  Every 
one  crowded  about  him,  shaking  hands  and  all  talk 
ing  at  once,  and  asking  questions,  making  quite  as  dem 
onstrative  a  meeting  as  Mr.  Heilberg  could  have 
wished. 

Mrs.  Peters  claimed  his  special  attention  as  soon  as 
it  was  possible  to  get  it,  and  a  hush  fell  upon  them  all, 


250       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

as  she  said,   "  Where  are  we  supposed  to   go  to  be 
formally  received,  Carl?" 

Everybody  called  Mr.  Heilberg  Carl  with  that  pe 
culiar  pride  one  has  in  appearing  to  be  on  informal 
terms  with  a  celebrity. 

"  Oh?  "  responded  Mr.  Heilberg,  in  a  puzzled  way, 
looking  toward  the  front  entrance,  "  Mrs.  Heilberg 
will  be  here  very  shortly.  I  am  sorry  she  is  late,  but 
I  left  her  to  rest  a  little  after  the  trip,  and  she  may 
have  overslept." 

"Mrs.  Heilberg?  Mrs.  Heilberg?"  everybody 
gasped,  as  the  Camp  hero  stood  beaming,  one  step 
above  them. 

"Mrs.  Heilberg  —  yes,"  he  said,  proudly.  "I 
have  a  surprise  for  you,  haven't  I  ?  This  is  our  wed 
ding  reception.  We  were  married  in  New  York  sev 
eral  days  ago;  and,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  see  if 
Mrs.  Heilberg  has  arrived." 

And  he  worked  his  way  through  the  mass  of  aston 
ished  guests,  to  the  door  of  the  ladies'  dressing  room. 

The  maid  took  in  his  name,  and  three  women  stepped 
out  of  the  room;  Mrs.  St.  John  first,  who  warmly 
greeted  Mr.  Heilberg  with  sincere  congratulations,  and 
then  she  introduced  him  to  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  to  whom 
he  said  a  cordial  word  or  two.  And  now  Stella  Mont 
gomery  smiled  up  at  him,  faintly,  almost  as  if  half 
frightened. 

Graciously,  he  offered  Stella  his  arm,  and  the  little 
party  walked  across  the  big  hall  to  the  handsome  De 
ception  room,  the  guests  so  utterly  at  sea,  they  were 
positively  solemn,  as  though  they  were  at  a  wedding 
ceremony.  A  dynamite  bomb  set  down  in  their  midst 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       251 

might  have  caused  a  little  more  activity,  but  it  could 
not  have  caused  more  consternation. 

Stella  Montgomery-Heilberg  was  a  most  marvellous 
picture  in  a  white  satin  gown  with  a  long  train,  the  entire 
frock  studded  with  seed  pearls.  It  was  so  simple,  yet 
so  gorgeous,  that  the  slight,  girlish  figure  had  to  throw 
its  full  weight  into  it,  to  carry  it.  Her  only  jewel  was 
a  splendid  tiara  of  diamonds  and  pearls,  the  only  tiara 
ever  seen  in  the  Camp  before,  so  far  as  anybody  could 
recall.  She  carried  one  American  Beauty  rose  from 
her  bouquet  —  only  one  —  in  her  white  gloved  hand, 
and  as  the  receiving  party  fell  into  line,  no  lady  of  a 
foreign  court  could  have  seemed  more  beautiful,  than 
this  Western  mining  camp  girl,  as  she  stood  with  her 
fine  blond  head  slightly  bent,  beside  the  man  who  had 
always  treated  her  like  a  little  child. 

Next  to  Mrs.  Heilberg,  stood  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  and 
next  to  her,  Mrs.  St.  John. 

Rather  shyly  — -  from  the  shock  of  the  surprise,  no 
doubt  —  the  guests  came  up,  and  offered  the  Heil- 
bergs  their  good  wishes;  and  their  pleasure  was  gen- 
uin^,  too,  for  this  marriage  was  a  splendid  thing  for 
Stella,  and  a  fitting  climax,  all  around.  But  the  towns 
folk  had  been  successfully  foiled,  and  this  is  always 
trying.  Still  they  were  glad,  and  it  was  very  soon  a 
merry,  happy  gathering. 

Everybody  was  civil  to  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  and  inter 
ested  in  her  as  could  be  —  they  had  to  be,  for  she  stood 
very  well  protected  from  anything  else.  The  men,  who 
but  a  week  or  so  ago,  had  had  such  an  unpleasant  few 
moments  because  of  her  affairs,  were  pointedly  nice  to 
her  —  they  had  agreed  among  themselves  to  be  so. 


252       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Mrs.  St.  John  always  made  things  go  off  well,  so 
once  the  guests  were  received  the  full  length  of  the 
line,  they  were  started  out  favourably  for  a  memorable 
good  time.  And  everybody  was  there,  and  everybody 
looked  well,  and  everybody  did  have  no  end  of  fun,  in 
deed,  especially  the  "  twin-squabs "  who  challenged 
everybody's  supply  of  flattering  adjectives,  they  were 
so  sweet  and  fluffy  and  enthusiastic.  They  simultane 
ously  gasped  that  they  never  expected  to  get  over  their 
paroxysms  of  thrills  over  this  romantic  marriage,  as 
long  as  they  lived.  And  they  thought  that  the  way  the 
bride  and  groom  had  fooled  everybody,  was  simply  too 
cute  for  words. 

The  line  was  about  to  break  up,  almost  everyone 
having  arrived  by  eleven,  when  Captain  Leonard 
claimed  a  dance  with  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  saying,  "  Shall 
we  waltz,  or  would  you  like  to  come  up  and  see  our 
bachelor  quarters  which  are  on  exhibition  this  even 
ing?  We  can  get  Mrs.  St.  John,  too,  if  you  like,  and 
Barton  Colby." 

This  did  interest  Eleanor,  exceedingly  —  a  great  deal 
more  than  she  would  ever  have  owned,  even  to  herself, 
and  she  had  just  assented,  when  the  club  steward  beck 
oned  to  Captain  Leonard,  who  asked  to  be  excused  a 
second.  This  left  her  standing  alone,  although  not 
noticeably  so,  as  many  people  were  all  about  her. 

She  was  just  wondering  to  whom  to  turn  for  a  word, 
when  who  should  walk  up,  all  smiles  and  manly  charm, 
but  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone ! 

The  former  Mrs.  Stone  almost  fainted  at  being  so 
near  him,  and  for  a  fraction  of  a  fearful  moment  — 
fearful  lest  he  should  speak  to  her,  and  fearful  lest  he 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        253 

should  not  —  she  thought  he  was  holding  out  his  hand 
to  her. 

But  no  —  oh,  no  —  not  at  all. 

Stella  was  still  beside  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  and  it  was  to 
Stella  that  Mr.  Stone  had  come.  He  took  the  bride's 
hand,  warmly,  saying  (and  Eleanor  could  not  possibly 
have  helped  hearing  him  —  he  was  so  horribly  near), 
"  I  intended  to  be  the  first  to  wish  you  well,  Mrs.  Heil- 
berg.  I  do  wish  you  every  happiness  in  the  world! 
Save  me  a  waltz,  will  you?  I  shall  not  dance  with 
anyone  else  —  send  up  to  the  billiard  room  for  me, 
when  you  want  me." 

And  he  bowed,  and  whirled  away. 

Stella  was  speechless  —  she  just  looked  her  thanks. 

Mr.  Stone  had  been  near  enough  for  Eleanor  to  have 
put  her  delicate  hands  on  the  pearl  studs  she  had  once 
given  him,  and  which  were  the  only  gifts  of  hers  he  had 
not  returned  when  the  break  came  —  yet  he  had  pre 
tended  not  to  see  her.  He  was  so  thoroughly  done 
with  the  whole  story  that  he  didn't  feel  embarrassment, 
even,  at  coming  near  her!  She  was  openly,  and  finally 
ignored.  The  punishment  was  almost  unendurable. 
Had  the  time  been  such  that  she  could  have  given  in  to 
her  emotions,  she  surely  would  have  burst  into  mad 
tears,  or  have  thrown  herself  down  upon  the  earth  in 
the  wild  intensity  of  pique.  But  being  where  she  was, 
Eleanor  Evan-Stone  smiled  vaguely  and  said  common 
place  things  to  the  woman  who  came  up  late  and  intro 
duced  herself. 

Not  only  had  this  man  affected  no  knowledge  of 
Eleanor's  existence,  not  to  say  her  presence,  but  he  had 
deliberately  let  her  see  his  deep  interest  in  Stella,  and 


254       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

he  knew  she  was  there  and  could  hear  him  —  of  course, 
he  knew ! 

What  was  his  and  Stella's  story?  Eleanor  would 
have  given  half  of  her  inheritance  to  know. 

But  by  this  time  Captain  Leonard  was  back,  and  the 
little  party  of  four  was  on  its  way  to  the  top  of  the 
building,  in  the  automatic  elevator  —  which  was  both 
the  pride  and  the  dread  of  the  Camp;  the  pride  when 
it  worked,  and  dread  when  it  spent  an  hour  or  so  be 
tween  floors,  with  somebody  inside,  none  too  pleased, 
who  had  a  pressing  engagement  elsewhere  at  the  time. 

Once  within  the  Stone-Leonard  apartments,  the  la 
dies  wandered  about,  looking  at  the  photographs,  beer 
mugs,  pipes,  embroidered  pillows  and  things.  It  was 
an  attractive  sitting  room  —  very.  A  piano  was  swung 
out  into  the  room  at  one  end,  and  Mrs.  Evan-Stone 
walked  over  to  it,  drawn  there  by  the  sight  of  a  tall 
vase  with  a  single  orchid  in  it  that  stood  on  the  top, 
together  with  some  ornaments.  She  ran  her  fingers 
over  the  key-board  lightly,  studying,  in  the  meantime, 
some  sheet  music  on  the  rack. 

One  song  was  opened — u  Calm  as  the  Night." 

Captain  Leonard  followed  the  lady  and  looked  down 
at  her  from  the  corner  of  the  upright  instrument  where 
he  placed  his  elbow  so  that  his  hand  might  support  his 
head  —  an  attitude  that  proclaimed  him  quite  at  home 
and  content  with  his  visitors.  The  lady  rose  from  the 
bench,  standing  near  him  so  that  she  might  engage  his 
eye  as  well  as  his  interest.  Having  established  her 
position  firmly,  she  adroitly  slipped  this  particular  song 
from  those  that  backed  it  up,  and  while  smiling  and 
joking  with  her  host,  she  quickly  rolled  it  tight,  bent  it 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        255 

double,  and  drew  her  scarf  over  her  theft.  No  pick 
pocket  in  the  east  end  of  London  could  have  done  a 
more  skilful  bit  of  work.  The  Captain  helped  his 
friend  and  room-mate  hunt  for  that  missing  song,  for 
days. 

"  Do  you  see  our  flower,  Mrs.  Evan-Stone?  "  he  mis 
chievously  asked.  And  his  expression  was  enough  to 
draw  comparison  to  the  single  flower  the  lady,  herself, 
was  wearing,  and  to  report  the  two  orchids  duplicates. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  lady,  carelessly.  "  Have  you 
found  out  yet  who  sends  them?  " 

The  Captain  cleared  his  throat  impressively,  and 
remarked,  "  You  know  bluff  is  a  wonderful  thing? 
Yes  —  I  value  it  higher  every  year  I  live.  But  in  the 
West  it  doesn't  deceive  us  as  it  might,  some  way.  You 
see,  I  have  you  in  hand-cuffs,  now  —  but  I  admire  your 
gameness,  just  the  same !  " 

u  You  may  have  heard,  perhaps,"  Eleanor  began, 
tucking  her  stolen  goods  in  the  safe  covering  of  her 
dainty  scarf,  under  her  arm,  as  she  looked  at  the  young 
man,  squarely,  "  that  every  once  in  a  while  the  wrong 
man  gets  hanged  because  of  circumstantial  evidence?  " 

"  But  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,"  he  tried  to  force  a  confes 
sion,  "  you  surely  don't  mean  to  tell  me  in  all  earnest 
ness  that  you  did  not  send  this  flower  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  do  mean  to  tell  you  that  I  did  not  send 
it,"  she  replied.  And  the  truth  of  her  statement  made 
itself  felt,  beyond  all  question. 

Then  the  Captain  glanced  at  the  single  American 
Beauty  rose  in  a  high,  green  vase  on  the  table  —  and 
then  back  at  the  lady. 

"  Nor  the  rose,  either !  "  she  warmly  insisted  —  al- 


256       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

though  his  asking  was  not  done  in  words  —  only  in 
manner. 

"  Well,"  sighed  the  Captain,  "  I  believe  you  —  but 
I  would  not  believe  any  other  woman  I  know.  And 
it's  most  extraordinary  about  these  single  flowers! 
Every  now  and  then,  we  receive  a  lone  red  rose  up  here; 
and  every  now  and  again,  we  get  a  lavender  orchid. 
They  don't  come  from  the  same  place,  and  I  doubt  if 
they  come  from  the  same  person.  All  of  us  are  ab 
sorbed  in  the  mystery.  We  have  Mr.  Stone's  permis 
sion  to  find  out  all  we  can  —  and  then  tell  him !  He 
has  just  as  much  fun  out  of  it  as  anybody.  The  red 
rose  comes  in  a  Montana  Floral  Company  box,  with  no 
card;  and  the  orchid  comes  in  another  make  of  box 
without  either  a  card  or  a  florist's  name." 

Then  the  Captain  lighted  a  cigarette  and  screwed 
his  face  up  over  the  knotty  problem. 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  felt  sure  she  could  place  the  red 
rose  where  it  belonged  —  but  she  and  Stella  Mont 
gomery  had  been  friends  in  a  strange  sort  of  way,  and 
no  amount  of  probing  could  ever  have  made  her  sug 
gest  this  name  to  the  Captain.  As  for  the  orchid  — 
she  was  just  as  out  of  the  secret  as  he.  The  fact  that 
it  tore  at  her  heart  to  see  that  somebody  else  was  doing 
a  little  thing  that  once  had  been  her  own  attention  to 
Mr.  Stone  —  to  see  that  he  could  bring  himself  to  ac 
cept  the  same  thing  from  someone  else  —  did  not  af 
fect  the  smile  she  wore  —  but  oh  !  how  it  hurt !  It 
would  have  been  so  much  finer  in  the  man  gently  to 
have  led  this  unknown  somebody  to  believe  he  really 
preferred  some  other  flower.  The  idea  of  one  flower, 
itself,  was  his  own  in  the  beginning,  so  no  doubt  it  was 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       257 

his  influence  on  the  taste  of  his  friends  that  made  them 
send  just  one  flower,  when  it  is  customary  to  send  a  lot 
of  flowers,  or  none  at  all. 

Nothing,  seemingly,  was  left  of  Mr.  Crathorne 
Stone's  old-time  sentiment  for  Eleanor,  but  a  per 
sistent  endeavour  to  blot  it  out  —  to  confuse  its  ex 
pressions  with  those  of  other  loves.  It  was  too  crush 
ing  a  punishment  for  her  desertion  of  him,  she  felt. 

But  stanch  and  evenly  did  the  woman  stand  and 
smile  and  take  the  blow.  She  was  so  deceiving  that 
the  Captain  had  a  notion  he  was  amusing  her  immensely 
by  continuing  the  subject  and  affecting  a  disbelief  in  her 
denial  of  knowing  anything  of  the  flowers. 

"  Now,  be  honest,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  won't  tell  a 
soul,  I  swear.  But  don't  you  know  a  little  —  just  a 
little  about  this  single  flower  business?  " 

"  Not  one  thing,"  she  told  him,  seriously,  even 
sadly.  "  Not  one  little  thing.  Surely,  Captain,  all 
joking  set  aside,  you  cannot  think  me  guilty  of  sending 
this  touching  token  to  a  man  who  has  shown  the  marked 
unfriendly  spirit  toward  me  that  Mr.  Stone  has  ever 
since  I  have  lived  here,  can  you?  " 

"  Has  he  been  unfriendly?  "  he  asked,  feigning  sur 
prise  and  belief  that  such  a  thing  must  be  impossible. 
The  Captain,  knowing  as  much  as  he  did  of  the  past 
relationship  of  these  two  persons,  could  not  resist  do 
ing  a  little  to  encourage  the  lady's  enlightening  him 
further,  so  long  as  he  had  the  opportunity  to  do  it 
guardedly  and  nicely. 

"  It  makes  no  particular  difference,  one  way  or  the 
other,"  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  began,  with  a  fair  assumption 
of  lightness,  "  but  nothing  could  have  induced  me  to 


258       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

come  up  here  in  his  rooms,  except  the  fact  I  did  not 
want  to  break  up  your  little  party." 

"Be  perfectly  comfortable!"  the  Captain  reas 
sured  her.  "  This  is  my  home,  too,  you  know,  and  you 
are  my  guest.  Mr.  Stone,  to  my  definite  knowledge 
will  not  be  up  here  for  at  least  an  hour,  as  he  is  at  pres 
ent  down-stairs  deep  in  billiards,  as  usual." 

"  You  won't  tell  Mr.  Stone  I  have  been  here,  will 
you,  Captain?  "  the  lady  begged,  in  a  plaintive  way  that 
showed  right  through  her  attempt  to  appear  uncon 
cerned. 

"  No,"  promised  the  Captain.  "  Not  if  you  don't 
want  me  to.  And  now  I  want  to  show  you  our  books." 

After  the  pleasantest  half  hour  imaginable  —  on  the 
surface  —  the  little  party  broke  up  and  then  went  down 
once  more  to  the  ball  room. 

The  greatest  stir  was  on  —  everybody  talking  at 
once  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  The  Heilbergs  had 
got  away,  and  not  a  soul  knew  how  or  when.  And  by 
the  time  their  disappearance  became  generally  known 
—  the  North  Coast  Limited  was  just  pulling  out  of  the 
station. 

Very,  very  late  —  or  was  it  very,  very  early  the  next 
morning?  —  the  bell  rang  out  clearly  in  Suite  5,  Quartz 
Club  Building. 

A  lot  of  fellows  had  gathered  there  to  wait  for 
breakfast,  as  the  down-stairs  part  of  the  club  was  chilly, 
deserted,  and  mussy  with  the  last  of  the  supper  things 
about,  and  wilted  flowers  cluttering  the  steam  radiators 
and  broken  fans  and  bits  of  spangles  and  things  giving 
a  doleful  look  to  the  rooms. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       259 

Mr.  Stone  set  down  his  highball  glass.  "  Yes?  "  he 
said,  thinking,  of  course,  he  was  being  rung  up  by  some 
belated  merry-maker  who  did  not  know  what  to  do  with 
himself  until  it  was  time  to  dress  for  business. 

But  he  got  no  answer. 

"  Who  is  it?  "  he  demanded,  sharply  this  time. 

"So  bad  off  he  can't  articulate?"  cheerfully  ven 
tured  Mr.  Barton  Colby's  nice  voice,  somewhere  near 
the  transmitter. 

"Hello,  I  say?"  stormed  Mr.  Stone  to  the  unre 
sponsive  wire. 

But  silence,  and  silence,  only,  reigned  at  the  other 
end.  And  in  exasperation,  Mr.  Stone  turned  to  the 
room  full  of  men  and  exclaimed  —  right  beside  the 
mouth-piece  — "  Well,  I  certainly  should  like  to  know 
who  the  devil  it  is  that  calls  this  place  about  three  times 
a  week  at  crazy  hours,  and  won't  apologise  for  getting 
the  wrong  number!"  And  he  slammed  up  the  re 
ceiver. 

The  next  instant,  Eleanor  Evan-Stone  rose  from  her 
desk,  away  up  on  the  top  of  Copper  Hill,  and  glancing 
at  the  cold  ashes  on  the  hearth,  she  gathered  her  flowing 
wrap  about  her  slender,  tired  little  self,  smiled  sadly 
—  and  turned  toward  her  room. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

TT  is  a  lamentable  thing  that  the  better  time  you  have 
A  had  at  a  ball,  the  worse  you  feel  the  next  morning 
—  the  world  is  full  of  testimony  to  this  aged  fact. 
Certainly  this  was  more  than  true  in  the  case  of  Mrs. 
Evan-Stone,  not  that  she  had  had  such  an  enjoyable 
time,  necessarily,  but  she  had  been  the  victim  of  a  vital 
experience;  and  this  morning,  after  a  couple  of  hours 
sleep,  broken  sleep  at  that  (for  poor  Emily  Corey 
breathed  so  hard  in  the  cot  next  to  her  bed,  that  rest 
for  her  was  impossible),  Eleanor  was  very  depressed 
in  spirits  and  very  stiff  from  having  caught  cold.  The 
moment's  gaiety  had  only  accentuated  her  loneliness  by 
its  contrast. 

Emily  Corey  turned,  heavily,  as  her  hostess  stood 
before  her  mirror  remarking  the  deep  shadows  under 
the  girl's  eyes,  reflected  there.  "  How  are  you  this 
morning,  Emfly?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  am  better,"  the  girl  courageously  reported.  "  I 
didn't  cough  so  much  in  the  night  as  usual.  Was  the 
ball  fine?" 

Then  Eleanor  described  all  the  gowns  she  could  re 
member,  and  made  up  just  as  good  accounts  of  those 
she  could  not  recall,  told  Emily  what  they  had  for  sup 
per,  and  all  about  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Heilberg  and  the  dec 
orations.  It  diverted  the  sick  girl. 

Later  Eleanor  sat  drinking  her  coffee  in  the  big  room 
when  the  bell  rang.  She  nervously  hurried  to  her  desk, 
and  to  her  acknowledgment  came  a  man's  voice,  saying, 

260 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       261 

"  This  is  Mr.  Burbanks,  Mrs.  Evanston,  of  Burbanks, 
Stark  and  Biddle.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  remind  you 
that  when  Mr.  Biddle  rented  you  the  house  you  are 
occupying,  we  were  not  in  a  position  to  give  you  a  lease. 
Our  orders  from  the  owner  were  to  rent  the  house,  sub 
ject  to  sale,  without  notice.  Your  month  is  up  the 
thirtieth,  and  while  this  allows  you  a  very  short  time 
in  which  to  make  a  change,  still  we  have  telegraphic  in 
structions  to  deliver  the  house  on  the  morning  of  the 
first  to  the  new  owner." 

"  Why !  "  gasped  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  in  amazement. 
"  This  gives  me  only  two  or  three  days  in  which  to  pack 
up,  Mr.  Burbanks.  One  can  hardly  do  it." 

"  I  appreciate  that  it  is  trying,  Mrs.  Evanston,"  he 
replied,  "  but  of  course  you  have  no  furniture  to  move, 
which  helps  a  good  deal,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Well,  really,  I  am  too  surprised  to  think.  But 
have  you  any  other  furnished  houses  to  let?  "  the  lady 
asked. 

"  No,"  he  told  her.  "  I  don't  believe  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  a  furnished  house  to  be  had  in  town.  It  is 
very  difficult  to  get  any  sort  of  a  house  here  just  now. 
At  present  we  have  two  —  one  a  barn  of  a  ten  room 
place  that  I  am  sure  you  would  not  consider;  and  the 
other  a  five  room  shack  in  a  cheap  neighbourhood  —  no 
place  at  all  for  a  lady.  I  am  sorry  about  this,  but  the 
recent  purchaser  insists  upon  the  property  being  turned 
over  to  him  at  once." 

"  Why  must  he  have  it  for  occupancy  so  soon?  "  she 
next  wanted  to  know. 

"  Well,  it's  a  funny  thing,"  Mr.  Burbanks  said,  "  but 
he  doesn't  seem  to  want  to  live  in  it,  himself,  or  have 


262       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

anybody  else  do  so.  Our  orders  the  moment  we  get 
the  keys,  are  to  send  carpenters  to  board  up  the  place 
as  it  was  when  you  took  it.  But  perhaps  if  you  would 
come  down  to  the  office,  we  might  get  something  for 
you  —  a  furnished  flat  in  the  kitchenette  apartment 
house,  or  some  place  to  go  for  the  present." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  rather  stupidly,  for  this  was 
a  real  shock  to  her.  "  I  will  try  to  come  in  this  after 
noon,  and  you  may  have  the  house  on  the  morning  of 
the  thirtieth.  Good-bye." 

The  more  Eleanor  thought  it  over,  the  less  recon 
ciled  she  was  to  have  her  life  upset.  She  was  not 
ready  to  go  back  to  New  York,  and  she  dreaded  to  move 
anywhere  else  in  the  Camp.  One  good  look  at  the 
"  cabins  "  as  they  still  called  the  small  houses  of  the 
place,  whether  they  were  modern  little  brick  houses,  or 
literally  log  cabins  of  the  original  camp,  was  enough  to 
prove  that  this  bungalow  was  the  only  thing  possible 
for  her  —  she  never  could  stand  the  frame  shanties 
that  seemed  to  be  the  only  places  for  rent,  even  if  she 
renovated  and  furnished  one,  herself,  and  hotels  were 
entirely  outside  of  her  plans.  Verily,  it  was  a  serious 
moment.  Perhaps  if  she  talked  with  the  new  owner, 
herself,  and  offered  to  pay  higher  rent,  some  arrange 
ment  could  be  made  for  her  to  stay  on  a  little  while 
longer,  she  thought,  so  she  called  up  the  agents. 

The  stenographer  answered,  with  a  nasal,  "  Who's 
the  party  who  bought  the  Burns  bungalow,  you  want  to 
know?  Hold  the  wire,  please,  and  Til  look  it  up." 

In  a  moment  the  girl  was  back  with  a  metallic, 
"  Hello?  Well,  Stone's  the  name  of  the  party  you  in- 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       263 

quired  about  —  Crathorne  Stone  —  you're  welcome. 
Good-bye." 

Eleanor  Evan-Stone  fairly  staggered  to  the  divan,  a 
living  whirlwind  of  warring  emotions.  So  this  was 
what  her  former  husband  had  done,  was  it?  Cleverly 
done,  too.  He  took  the  very  roof  from  over  her  head, 
knowing  there  would  be  but  one  course  open  for  her  to 
take  —  to  go  home.  So  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  did  not 
propose  to  allow  her  to  live  in  the  same  town  with  him, 
even?  It  was  as  bad  as  that!  Truly  this  seemed  car 
rying  resentment  and  wounded  pride  very,  very  far. 

A  long  time  the  crushed  little  woman  huddled  in  the 
corner  of  the  divan,  her  coffee  cold  and  forgotten,  con 
scious  of  nothing  save  her  own  chagrin  and  her  in 
finite  desolation.  "  If  I  had  ever  annoyed  him  in  any 
way  —  if  I  had  ever  chattered  about  our  affairs  —  if  I 
had  even  come  here  deliberately,  knowing  he  lived  here 
—  if  I  had  ever  done  anything  but  live  my  own  little 
unaggressive  life,  on  my  own  money,  it  wouldn't  be  so 
terrible!"  she  sobbed.  "If  —  if  only  I  did  not  — 
worship  him!  " 

And  she  cried  until  one  would  hardly  have  recognised 
the  dear,  pretty  little  face  at  all. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Eleanor  realised  that  Emily 
Corey,  pathetically  weak  and  in  her  dressing  gown  and 
slippers,  knelt  beside  her,  gently  smoothing  back  her 
dark,  rich  hair,  saying  softly,  "  Say?  You  want  to  cut 
out  going  to  balls,  and  taking  the  men  serious,  see? 
They  ain't  worth  a  continental  gee-haw !  " 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  sat  up  and  smiled  through  her 
tears,  for  there  was  something  funny  in  Emily's  slangy 


264       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

words,  her  intonation  of  the  cynic,  and  her  intuitional 
diagnosis  of  this  breakdown. 

"  Emily  Corey,"  Eleanor  said,  abruptly,  "  have  you 
had  enough  of  this  mining  camp?  /  have!  " 

"  You  can  bet  everything  you  own  on  it!  "  grimly  an 
swered  the  ill  girl,  her  eyes  wide  and  full  of  determina 
tion. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  be  contented  living  the 
dull  life  of  a  seamstress,  Emily?"  her  friend  next 
wanted  to  know. 

"  Well,"  hesitated  the  girl,  "  I  wasn't  born  yester 
day,  and  so  I  don't  set  so  much  store  on  the  strength  of 
the  human  being,  as  I  might,  but  I'd  welcome  a  chance 
at  trying  it,  all  right." 

"  I  will  give  you  that  chance,  if  you  want  it,"  said 
Eleanor  Evan-Stone.  "  I  am  going  back  to  New  York 
just  as  soon  as  we  can  get  our  trunks  and  boxes  packed, 
and  you  may  come  with  Martha  and  me  and  live  in  my 
house  until  you  are  strong  again.  After  that  I  will  get 
you  all  the  work  you  can  do,  and  you  are  so  gifted,  you 
will  grow  to  be  an  excellent  dressmaker,  in  time." 

"My!  but  you're  good!"  breathed  the  sick  girl. 
"  But  what  if  it  didn't  work?  What  if  some  day  I 
went  —  back?" 

"  That  is  the  chance  I  take,"  simply  explained  the 
other  woman. 

"  You  do  take  the  most  awful  chances  of  any  person 
I  ever  met!  "  Emily  remarked,  more  with  reverence, 
however,  than  criticism. 

"  Yes,"  dreamily  sighed  Eleanor  Evan-Stone. 
"  And  the  funny  thing  is  that  sometimes,  I  win." 

"  You  bet  you  do !  "  said  Emily  Corey. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       265 

Once  having  decided  to  leave  the  Camp,  Mrs.  Evan- 
Stone  resolved  she  would  get  out  of  it  just  as  quickly 
as  she  left  New  York.  She  went  to  work  at  once  upon 
the  details  of  the  departure,  losing  herself  in  the  excite 
ment,  for  the  moment.  She  got  reservations  on  the 
fastest  eastbound  train  for  the  next  night.  She  had  P. 
P.  C.  cards  to  address;  and  a  scrub-woman  to  find,  so 
that  the  bungalow  might  be  left  in  good  order  for  Mr. 
Crathorne  Stone.  Did  he  buy  the  place,  she  pondered, 
partly  to  drive  her  away,  and  partly  as  a  home  for  the 
future  Mrs.  Stone,  who  doubtless  was  sending  him  the 
orchids?  Extraordinary  taste,  to  be  sure,  but  prob 
ably  true.  A  packer  had  to  be  got  hold  of,  and 
Dr.  Marsden  consulted  upon  Emily's  condition  and 
care  while  on  the  train.  There  was  quite  enough  to 
do! 

And  a  certain  fiendish  joy  thrilled  Eleanor  Evan- 
Stone  as  she  reasoned  that  she  was  doing  exactly  what 
any  sensible  man  would  do  in  a  crisis.  She  was  work 
ing,  instead  of  thinking. 

They  had  not  had  a  trained  nurse  for  Emily,  because 
the  house  was  small,  and  she  was  hardly  dangerously 
ill.  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  and  Martha  were  perfectly  com 
petent  to  do  all  that  was  necessary  for  her;  and  Martha 
had  been  a  good  deal  nicer  about  the  visitor  than  could 
have  been  hoped.  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  had  explained 
Emily  as  being  unfortunate  and  in  need  of  care  and  en 
couragement.  Martha  delved  no  further  —  to  her  re 
lief.  Liking  the  girl  personally,  and  being  so  hard  up 
for  company  when  her  mistress  was  out,  both  helped 
to  make  Martha  resigned  to  Emily's  staying  in  the 
house.  The  fact  that  Emily  no  longer  "  kept  company 


266       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

with  that  awful  bum  "  made  Martha  see  that  the  girl 
really  had  some  sense,  after  all. 

Martha  and  Emily  already  had  planned  to  go  to 
gether  to  the  annual  festival  of  the  young  ladies  aux 
iliary  of  the  White  Ribbon  Society,  if  they  got  back  to 
New  York  in  time. 

"  Won't  you  be  glad  to  see  the  dear  old  subway, 
Emily?"  asked  Martha,  when  they  all  got  into  the 
spirit  of  going,  and  Martha  was  giving  the  girl  her  tray 
of  light  luncheon. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  *  the  dear  old  sub 
way/  Martha,"  she  replied,  "  but  I'll  be  glad  enough  to 
lose  this  mining  camp." 

"  Me,  too !  "  Martha  said,  earnestly,  from  the  door 
way.  u  I  de-test  the  place,  myself.  It's  either  so  lone 
some  you  nearly  die,  or  else  it's  queer,  and  I  don't  like 
either  of  'em.  And  about  once  a  week,  regular,  I  have 
expected  this  little  box  to  blow  clean  off  the  hill,  and 
land  in  a  pile  of  kindling  wood  some  place  down  near 
Brinmarr  Avenoo.  And  me  on  the  very  bottom  of  the 
wreck,  right  under  the  kitchen  stove  with  the  piano  on 
top  of  that!  " 

"  Martha  ?  Please  don't  make  me  laugh  ?  "  pleaded 
Emily.  "  I  told  you  once  I  had  a  pain  in  my  side, 
didn't  I?" 

"  I  ain't  trying  to  be  funny  —  this  trip  hasn't  been 
no  joke  to  me !  "  solemnly  declared  Martha.  And 
then  she  hurried  back  to  her  duties. 

But  while  most  of  this  day  was  taken  up  with  packing, 
shopping  and  so  on,  preparatory  to  getting  out  of  town 
the  following  night,  still  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  promised 
herself  one  more  good  ride  with  Nickel.  Dear  old 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       267 

Nickel !  It  was  a  bit  of  a  wrench  to  leave  the  horse, 
and  it  was  with  a  loving  touch  that  his  rider  gave  him 
his  lumps  of  sugar  this  afternoon  when  they  started  off. 

It  was  a  bright  winter's  day,  not  too  cold  if  one  wore 
warm  gloves  and  kept  moving.  They  turned  off  on  the 
valley  road,  and  took  a  shot  or  two  at  the  old  familiar 
cans,  but  it  brought  only  sadness  to  Eleanor,  so  she 
reloaded  her  brute  of  a  forty-four  and  tucked  it  back 
in  the  saddle  pocket.  There  didn't  seem  to  be  any  fun 
in  it  any  more;  it  seemed  too  heavy.  She  was  sorry 
she  had  not  brought  the  lighter  pistol. 

Then  they  retraced  their  steps  and  headed  for  the 
Flat,  in  the  direction  of  the  country  club.  It  was  such 
a  fine  day  that  possibly  some  scarlet  sweaters  might  be 
seen  out  on  the  links,  working  off  the  dull  feelings 
which  resulted  from  the  late  hours  and  the  ball.  Ele 
anor  wanted  to  have  a  last  look  at  them.  She  didn't 
know  why. 

Fifteen  minutes  of  brisk  trotting  brought  them  to  the 
fence  that  divided  the  cemetery  from  the  golf  grounds, 
and  one  glance  was  enough  to  reveal  the  fact  that  some 
thing  most  unusual  was  going  on  near  the  club  house. 

Mr.  Colby's  roadster  stood  vibrating,  alone,  and 
young  Colby  was  running  about,  excitedly,  apparently 
calling  out  orders.  A  couple  of  golfers  were  hurrying 
up  to  try  to  help  the  rider  of  a  terrified,  or  vicious  horse, 
Eleanor  could  not  tell  which.  She  naturally  turned  in 
at  the  big  gate  on  the  chance  of  being  useful. 

Nickel  responded  willingly  to  her  signal  to  gallop, 
and  a  few  seconds  brought  her  to  Mr.  Colby's  side. 
That  boy  was  pale  and  confused.  He  omitted  all  for 
malities,  and  burst  out,  "  That  horse  has  not  been  out 


268       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

of  his  stall  in  a  week,  and  he  is  crazy  full  of  the  devil ! 
I  frightened  him,  starting  up  my  car.  He  seems  pos 
sessed  to  throw  Thorny,  and  it's  all  right  enough  —  as 
long  as  he  keeps  away  from  that  open  prospect  hole." 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  realising  the  danger,  had  no  time 
or  inclination  to  consider  anything  personal  between 
herself  and  the  rider  of  the  maddened  horse,  a  hundred 
yards  from  her.  Her  eyes  travelled  to  the  prospect 
hole,  which  she  had  heard  somebody  say,  one  day, 
ought  to  have  been  boarded  up  or  fenced  in,  long  ago, 
on  account  of  the  golf  balls  lost  in  it.  But  now  one  saw 
there  were  graver  reasons  why  this  never  should  have 
been  neglected.  The  hole  was  a  good  twenty  feet 
deep,  and  about  fifteen  feet  in  circumference.  If 
the  horse  should  rear  into  it,  or  plunge  down  into  it  with 
his  rider,  it  meant  a  hideous  death  for  both  of  them. 

"  Run  out  there  and  wave  your  coat,  if  the  horse 
starts  to  run  this  way!  "  Eleanor  suggested,  sensibly. 

And  young  Colby  did  so,  as  she,  herself,  took  a  posi 
tion  to  one  side  of  the  yawning  danger  —  twenty  yards 
or  so  from  it.  She  was  hesitating  what  to  do ;  whether 
to  ride  out  to  the  plunging,  snorting  beast,  which  as  yet 
had  not  dislodged  his  determined  rider;  or  whether  not 
to  run  the  risk  of  frightening  him  any  more,  by  inter 
fering  —  when  —  oh !  horrible ! 

The  infuriated  animal  started  to  run,  and  one  man's 
power  was  as  a  baby's  on  his  gaping  jaws. 

"  Can't  we  do  anything?"  yelled  Colby  to  the  dis 
tressed  woman. 

She  sat  motionless,  knowing  she  had  not  the  strength 
to  hold  the  beast,  even  if  she  did  succeed  in  getting  a 
grip  on  his  reins  near  the  bit,  which  is  sometimes  done 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       269 

in  such  cases.  This  meant  sure  tragedy,  because  two 
horses  running  so  close  together  are  more  than  apt  to 
throw  each  other.  She  waited  —  and  hoped. 

To  see  this  man  killed,  would  have  been  the  end  of 
life  for  her,  even  though  she  owed  him  nothing  —  and 
he  had  done  with  their  story. 

Crathorne  Stone's  mad  horse  ran  toward  the  club 
house,  unrestrained,  heedless  of  the  frantic  wavings  of 
the  coats  of  three  men,  who  had  stationed  themselves  in 
line  with  the  prospect  hole.  The  insane  brute  tore  by 
them,  as  though  he  did  not  see  them;  and  the  force  with 
which  he  dashed  by  Colby,  felled  that  young  man. 

The  next  that  anybody  knew,  three  sharp  shots  rang 
out  in  the  clear  air  of  the  late  afternoon. 

Eleanor  Evan-Stone  closed  her  eyes  and  prayed  for 
the  strength  to  look  upon  her  work.  But  the  courage 
did  not  come  until  she  had  first  put  her  smoking  gun 
back  into  the  saddle  pocket,  and  tightened  up  her  reins 
—  quite  as  though  nothing  at  all  had  happened. 

She  feared  that  when  she  looked  up  after  the  dull 
fall  she  had  heard,  she  would  see  nothing  but  —  prairie. 
She  was  sure  she  had  been  too  late,  and  that  both  the 
horse  and  his  rider  were  now  at  the  bottom  of  the  open 
hole,  in  their  last  struggle.  But  she  had  to  look  some 
time  —  so  she  breathed  hard  —  and  looked. 

Colby  sat,  mouth  open,  where  he  had  been  knocked 
down.  The  other  men  stood  nearby,  transfixed.  A 
dead  horse  lay  on  the  ground  in  a  fleshy  mass,  his  nose 
bleeding  and  his  two  front  hoofs  lying  out  over  the  edge 
of  the  great  hole. 

Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  —  well  nigh  stunned  from  his 
landing  —  had  been  hurled,  violently,  clear  the  other 


270       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

side  of  the  prospect  hole,  where  he  now  sat  stupidly,  in 
a  small  cloud  of  dust  and  dirt. 

Then  Eleanor  Evan-Stone  caustically  remarked  to 
herself  that  fainting  had  gone  out  of  fashion.  She 
turned  her  horse  toward  the  gate  and  rode  away  at  a 
gallop  before  any  of  the  astounded  men  collected 
enough  wit  to  call  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

£6TT'S   been   about   two   months,"   mused  Eleanor, 

•••  after  she  had  seen  to  Emily  Corey's  supper  being 
taken  in  to  her,  and  had  at  last  dropped  into  her  own 
chair  at  the  dinner  table,  almost  exhausted.  "  Two 
months,  only,  and  yet  I  would  swear  I  had  lived  here 
forever!  I  feel  so  near  to  the  mountains  and  the 
plains  and  the  people  —  people,  with  one  exception." 
A  faint  look  of  amusement  crossed  her  face,  even 
though  it  hurt  her  as  it  passed. 

She  could  not  eat,  yet  she  needed  the  food.  She 
was  so  tired  from  the  strain  of  last  night  and  to-day 
that  she  merely  pushed  back  the  food  offered  her,  and 
fell  forward  on  her  arms,  half  lying  on  the  table  in  a 
haze  of  thinking,  dozing,  dreaming,  suffering. 

Martha  quietly  cleared  away  the  dishes,  and  let  her 
mistress  alone,  remembering  that  very  soon  they  would 
be  at  home  once  more,  where  life  would  be  more  nat 
ural  for  Mrs.  Evan,  as  she  called  her,  and  where  she 
might  once  more  drop  into  that  restful  state  of  indif 
ference  that  Martha  was  accustomed  to  see  her  in,  and 
which  she  believed  tired  the  lady  less  than  taking  a 
strong  interest  in  life. 

About  half  past  seven  this  dazed  condition  and 
cramped  position  were  broken  by  the  bell  at  her  desk. 
Mrs.  Evan-Stone  raised  herself,  heavily,  and  acknowl 
edged  the  call,  in  a  lifeless,  low-pitched  voice,  most 
unlike  her  usual  tone. 

She  was  further  shaken  out  of  herself  by  hearing  the 

271 


272       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

most  attractive  voice  of  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone,  saying, 
"  Is  this  1778  —  Mrs.  Stone's  house?  " 

It  would  hardly  have  been  more  surprising  to  her,  to 
have  looked  out  to  see  the  Lone  Cone  standing  at  the 
other  end  of  town. 

But  Eleanor  had  thought  quickly  once  before  to-day, 
and  while  she  was  near  the  end  of  her  strength,  still 
there  was  enough  of  her  left  to  think  again  promptly. 
Nothing  on  earth  could  have  made  her  speak  with  Mr. 
Stone  —  nothing  on  earth,  in  the  waters  under  the  earth, 
or  in  the  heavens  above  —  even  though  his  voice  was 
all  there  was  in  life,  for  her.  No.  She  could  be 
just  as  cold  and  just  as  stubborn  as  he,  which  was 
quite  cold  enough  and  quite  stubborn  enough  to  suit  any 
body. 

"You  want  1778?"  she  repeated,  in  that  same,  un 
natural  voice.  "  Well,  this  ain't  it.  Good-bye." 
And  she  hung  up  the  receiver,  knowing  that  if  her  tone 
did  not  deceive  Mr.  Stone,  her  grammar  would. 

Eleanor  was  much  too  fatigued  to  work  herself  into 
any  sort  of  a  rage,  but  she  still  had  vitality  enough  to 
be  sarcastic.  She  spoke  aloud,  softly.  "  Too  much 
bother  for  him  to  write  a  note?  Out  of  the  habit  of 
sending  flowers?  Too  far  to  think  of  calling  in  per 
son?  Some  way,  it  doesn't  seem  to  please  me  to  get 
his  thanks  this  way.  It's  a  shade  too  casual." 

And  she  went  to  the  divan,  and  dropped  down  there, 
logily,  staring  at  the  bright  fire  on  the  hearth. 

In  a  moment  the  bell  rang  again  —  a  positive,  not 
to  say  aggressive  ring,  indicating  a  marked  assurance 
on  the  part  of  the  finger  belonging  to  the  person  on  the 
other  end  of  the  line. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        273 

"How  very  enterprising  of  Mr.  Stone!  "  said  the 
lady,  this  time  addressing  the  fire. 

The  fire  burned  a  sympathetic  response. 

An  interval,  sufficient  in  time  to  have  allowed  some 
body  to  answer,  was  given,  then  came  another  ring  — 
a  longer  one,  this  time. 

Eleanor  sat  perfectly  still. 

It  rang  a  third  time,  and  Martha  appeared,  assuming 
that  her  mistress  was  asleep  and  had  not  heard. 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  sprang  up  with  the  agility  of  a  cat. 
"  Martha!  "  she  commanded.  "  Don't  touch  that  re 
ceiver.  I  am  too  worn  out  to  care  to  talk  with  any- 
body." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Evan,"  Martha  replied,  retiring. 

Twice  more  —  and  then  the  ringing  stopped.  He 
had  given  up. 

A  sweeping  feeling  of  hopelessness  overcame  the 
lady  during  the  quiet  that  followed.  Odd,  wasn't  it? 
But  there  was  a  grim  sense  of  companionship  in  merely 
having  Crathorne  Stone  trying  to  get  her  for  a  brief, 
perfunctory  moment's  conversation,  with  the  distance 
of  a  full  mile  between  them.  But  Eleanor  knew  the 
man  of  old.  He  would  dismiss  the  detail  of  thanking 
her,  with  one  good  try.  And  heavens!  Could  one 
blame  him  ?  It  wasn't  exactly  a  pleasant  task.  Yet  — 
it  was  her  last  chance,  probably,  to  hear  his  voice.  But 
pride  is  pride,  and  soon  Eleanor  was  saying  to  herself 
that  she  really  did  not  care  to  speak  with  Mr.  Stone  — 
that  while  one  could  not  always  choose  the  lives  one 
must  save,  still,  one  did  have  the  privilege  of  choosing 
the  persons  with  whom  one  chatted,  didn't  one? 

The  quiet  of  eternal  death  reigned  on  the  top  of 


274       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

Copper  Hill.  By  nine  o'clock  Martha  had  gone  to  bed, 
tired  out  by  a  long,  hard  day.  Since  six  o'clock  Emily 
Corey  had  been  in  a  sickish  doze,  her  only  sign  of  life, 
being  her  breathing.  The  wind  was  busy  somewhere 
else,  for  a  change  —  and  one  can  be  so  alone  that  one 
misses  the  wind.  The  fire  had  reached  that  stage  when 
it  was  silent.  And  Eleanor  Evan-Stone  sat  very,  very 
still. 

In  fifteen  minutes,  "  Burrrr-rrrr-rrrr-rrrr !  "  came  the 
call,  fresh  and  vigorous  as  one  could  imagine. 

"  Ah?  "  sighed  the  lady,  startled  out  of  her  dreaming. 
"  The  dashing,  tall,  blond  hero  is  reluctant  to  acknowl 
edge  himself  beaten,  is  he?  Delightful!"  And  she 
sank  farther  back  into  the  pillows,  complacently. 

Another  pause,  and  then  —  mercy !  One  wondered 
if  the  bells  were  securely  fastened  on  the  box,  so  that 
they  would  not  work  themselves  completely  off ! 

"  How  sweet  this  is!  "  murmured  the  lady,  resting 
gracefully,  with  her  eyes  luxuriously  closed,  and  her  red 
mouth  suggesting  a  smile.  '*  The  New  York  Symphony 
Orchestra  never  made  such  music!  " 

Shortly  there  came  the  recognised  signal  of  "  Trou 
ble  " —  three  curt,  successive  rings,  which  indicated  the 
wire  was  being  tested  from  the  office. 

Emily  Corey  opened  the  bedroom  door,  and  stood 
there  uncertain  of  her  balance,  she  was  so  weak  and  so 
very,  very  sleepy.  But  she  managed  to  drawl,  "  Say? 
Isn't  that  noise  working  over-time  ?  " 

"  Get  thee  back  to  bed,  Ophelia !  "  gaily  commanded 
Mrs.  Evan-Stone.  "  You  give  me  the  creeps  with  that 
long,  white  gown  and  your  wild  hair.  It's  nothing  but 
a  man  trying  to  extend  his  appreciation  of  my  having 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       275 

kept  him  from  getting  into  a  prospect  hole,  when  it 
looked  for  a  moment  as  though  that  was  his  destination. 
I  don't  want  the  thanks,  but  I  am  having  a  lovely  time. 
Don't  interrupt  me,  please.  I  will  put  a  sofa  cushion 
on  the  bells  so  they  won't  disturb  you  any  more.  Be 
off!" 

And  Emily  Corey,  like  something  that  had  been  ma 
terialised  but  didn't  care  for  the  place,  vanished. 

Eleanor  took  up  a  small  pine-needle  pillow  and  knelt 
beside  the  signal  case,  which  was  fastened  on  the  base 
board  near  her  desk.  She  laid  the  pillow  on  the  bells, 
neatly  patting  down  its  contents  so  that  the  sound  might 
be  somewhat  deadened,  when  again  the  ringing  started, 
the  disturbance  making  itself  felt  in  her  hands.  Like  a 
sprite,  she  threw  off  the  pillow  and  put  all  of  her  fingers 
on  the  bells,  taking  the  vibrations  as  they  came. 

When  the  ringing  stopped  she  fell  back,  saying  with 
a  sadness  that  knew  no  end,  "  I  suppose  this  is  as  near 
a  caress  as  I  shall  ever  come." 

But  this  was  the  last. 

Just  as  Eleanor  was  rested  a  little  and  congratulating 
herself  upon  having  been  in  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone's 
thoughts  for  something  over  one  hour  and  a  quarter  — 
the  time  since  he  spoke  —  what  should  take  her  atten 
tion  from  her  triumph,  but  the  unmistakable  complain 
ing  of  Mr.  Barton  Colby's  sixty-horse  power  car 
making  the  climb  of  Copper  Hill ! 

She  met  Mr.  Colby  at  the  door.  He  ripped  off  his 
driving  glove  and  grasped  her  hand  firmly  —  almost 
affectionately. 

"Princess?"  he  began,  in  his  sweet  boyish  way. 
"What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  your  telephone? 


276       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

I  have  spent  the  best  of  a  whole  hour  trying  to  get 
you  this  evening,  and  I  had  Trouble  hot  on  the  job, 
too.  The  office  insisted  the  wire  was  in  perfect  condi 
tion —  that  you  wouldn't  answer.  I  got  worried  for 
fear  you  were  ill  after  your  strenuous  experience  this 
afternoon.  Are  you  all  right,  Princess?  " 

"  You  have  been  trying  to  get  me  for  an  hour,  you 
say  —  you?  "  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  asked  drawing  her  hand 
away  from  him,  gently. 

"  Me?  Sure.  Who  did  you  think  it  was  —  the 
police?  Say  —  well,  I'll  be  hanged!  What  have  you 
got  your  bells  muffled  for?  "  Being  bent  on  finding  out 
the  difficulty,  he  had  walked  to  the  desk  before  she 
could  intercept  him. 

Eleanor  stood  like  a  guilty  school  girl. 

"  You'll  be  sorry  when  you  hear  who  else  tried  to 
get  you!  "  the  boy  said,  smiling  at  her  evident  shyness. 
u  The  town  hero  whose  life  you  saved  to-day.  He 
tried  twice.  He  can't  move  an  inch  off  the  couch. 
Poor  devil  —  he  wanted  to  thank  you  for  not  shooting 
him  up  any  worse." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Colby?"  she  gasped  in 
alarm. 

"  Well,  he's  glad,  and  I'm  glad,  and  the  girls  at 
large  will  be  glad  that  you  did  not  pop  out  one  of  his 
eyes.  The  girls  are  crazy  about  Thorny's  eyes,  you 
know,  and  he's  kind  of  attached  to  them,  himself,  using 
them  regularly  to  see  with  and  being  used  to  having 
them  in  working  order." 

"  Will  you  stop  your  nonsense,  and  tell  me  what  you 
mean?"  she  demanded. 

"  What  do  you  care  what  you  did  to  him?  "  probed 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       277 

the  boy.     "  Cap  told  me  you  thought  Thorny  had  rot 


ten  manners." 


'  Will  you  tell  me?  "  she  almost  wept  in  annoyance. 

"  You  spoiled  one  of  his  puttees  —  the  right  one, 
and  he  liked  that  better  than  the  left,  as  luck  would 
have  it.  You  plugged  it,  proper!  "  he  dolefully  told 
her. 

"  Did  it  hurt  him?  "  she  whispered,  with  her  pretty 
foreheacl  all  wrinkled  up  with  anxiety. 

"  Oh  no!  "  he  answered,  gleefully.  "  It  didn't  do 
a  thing  to  Thorny!  It  just  used  his  puttee  as  a  pas 
sageway,  and  lodged  in  the  inner  workings  of  that 
horse  Jack-O  that  Thorny  cares  more  for  than  he  does 
all  the  rest  of  us  put  together.  Your  other  bullets,  you 
thoughtfully  confined  to  the  horse,  exclusively. 
Thorny's  leg  was  an  incident." 

"  You  are  positively  cruel !  "  complained  the  lady. 
"Did  I  hurt  him  dreadfully?" 

"  I  suppose  you  did,  but  he  seems  kind  of  proud  of 
the  wound  and  the  distinction.  He's  got  his  leg  all 
bound  round  with  a  woollen  string,  as  the  song  goes, 
and  scented  up  with  the  very  vilest-smelling  disinfectant 
known  to  man.  Anybody  can  examine  the  bandages 
who  cares  to.  I  took  him  up  town  in  my  machine,  and 
got  the  doctor  at  once." 

"Dr.  Marsden?"  she  asked. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  not!  "  he  told  her  with  a  signifi 
cance  she  naturally  did  not  understand.  "  Pickens  is 
his  doctor.  Thorny's  going  to  live,  though."  And 
the  boy  grinned,  irresistibly. 

"  Barton  Colby?  "  the  lady  pleaded,  "  you  won't  say 
anything  about  that  cushion,  will  you  ?  It  would  sound 


278       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

awfully  queer.  You  see,  Martha  has  a  beau  who  calls 
her  every  evening  about  the  same  hour;  and  it  annoys 
me,  so  I  thought  the  best  way  to  stop  him  was  to 
deaden  the  bells  so  that  she  could  not  hear  them  in  the 
back  of  the  house.  You  see?" 

"  Well,  I'd  rather  tell  it  all  over  town,  Princess,  but 
as  you  feel  so  bad  about  it,  I'll  keep  quiet  to  the  grave. 
But  who's  Martha  ?  "  The  boy  was  wondering  if  Mar 
tha  was  what  "  the  Corey  woman  "  called  herself  to 
Mrs.  Evan-Stone. 

"  My  maid,"  she  told  him. 

"  Oh !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  thought  maybe  you  had 
somebody  visiting  you?"  He  wanted  to  understand 
his  new  friend  better. 

"  I  have  a  sort  of  visitor  here,"  she  simply  enlight 
ened  him.  "  An  ill  girl  that  I  am  taking  East  with  me 
to-morrow  night.1' 

"  You  are  going  away  to-morrow  night?  "  repeated 
young  Colby.  "  Why  Princess,  you  have  only  just 
come!  "  And  the  subject  of  Emily  Corey  was  quite 
forgotten,  so  much  stronger  was  his  concern  over  this 
unexpected  piece  of  news. 

"  This  is  good-bye,  Mr.  Barton  Colby,"  she  said,  re 
gretfully.  "  But  I  am  going  to  ask  you  not  to  mention 
it  to  anybody,  for  I  prefer  to  go  as  I  came  —  unnoticed. 
I  have  written  little  notes  to  those  who  have  been 
friendly  to  me.  There  is  one  to  you  over  on  the  desk, 
waiting  to  be  posted." 

"  O  Princess?  "  he  begged.  "  Don't  go  !  Why,  it 
will  be  awful.  Some  old  chump  of  a  person  will  be  here 
in  this  house,  and  we  all  like  to  feel  that  you  are  in  it." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  like  the  next  occupant  a  lot  better 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       279 

than  you  like  me,"  she  suggested,  a  tear  rolling  down 
her  cheek,  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  Never,  Princess !  "  he  assured  her,  earnestly. 
"  But  before  you  go  I  want  to  tell  you  something  that 
I  had  meant  to  keep  dark  for  a  while  yet." 

uOh,  don't!"  she  pleaded.  "I  am  too  tired  for 
any  confidences,  and  maybe  you  might  be  sorry  later  if 
you  did  tell  me?  " 

"  No.  And  by  George,  you've  got  to  listen ! 
Princess,  the  most  terrible  thing  has  happened  to  me. 
I've  got  my  final  attack  of  the  worst  disease  that  man  is 
heir  to  —  I'm  in  love !  " 

"Oh,  perhaps  not?"  she  ventured,  not  jokingly  at 
all,  but  as  one  to  whom  love  has  been  an  infinite  pain. 
"  It  hurts  so  to  care,  boy!  " 

"  Hurts?  "  he  repeated.  "  Hell  —  it's  a  lot  worse 
than  that!  And  I  am  not  so  sure  she  will  use  me  for 
a  dust-rag  after  I  tell  her  how  I  feel,  but  anyway,  I  am 
going  to  take  the  chance." 

"  Haven't  you  told  her  yet?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  No,  but  I  am  going  to  in  a  few  minutes."  And  this 
was  announced  with  determination  uncombatable. 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  hardly  dared  to  look  up.  Was  it 
possible  that  this  boy  was  in  love  with  her?  And  she 
had  thought  from  the  first  that  he  was  so  very  sophisti 
cated  !  She  could  not  bear  to  listen  to  any  serious  woes 
this  evening  —  she  must  stop  him  before  it  was  too  late. 

"  She  is  a  little  wonder!  "  the  boy  started  to  describe 
her,  proudly. 

"  Don't  let  us  talk  about  her?  "  interfered  Eleanor. 
"  I  am  so  tired  to-night,  I  know  I  cannot  show  the  en 
thusiasm  you  will  expect  of  me.  And  the  first  thing 


a8o       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

you  know,  you  will  be  disclosing  her  identity,  and  you 
know  you  will  be  sorry  after  you  go.  Let's  talk  about 
me.  Did  you  bring  me  that  miner's  candle-stick,  to 
night?  " 

"  O  hang!  "  exclaimed  the  boy,  snapping  his  fingers 
in  exasperation.  u  I  have  intended  to  get  that  candle 
stick  every  time  I  have  been  down  in  the  mine,  ever 
since  I  promised  it  to  you.  I  have  told  half  a  dozen 
fellows  to  jog  my  memory  about  that  thing.  It's  jolly 
well  known  all  over  the  state  you  want  one." 

"  Barton  Colby!  "  she  breathed,  falling  back  in  the 
pillows,  as  she  realised  the  smiles  this  would  cause  the 
two  other  men  who  were  to  bring  her  the  same  token 
—  if  it  ever  reached  their  ears.  "  To  whom  did  you 
mention  this?  "  she  went  on,  apprehensively. 

"  Nobody  you  know,"  he  relieved  her.  "  I  told  a 
cage  full  of  miners  one  day  to  bring  me  one  —  and 
they  all  forgot  it.  But  it's  a  fright  how  little  things  do 
get  the  rounds  in  a  place  as  desperate  for  news  items 
as  this,  though.  But  about  the  serious  things  —  I'm 
simply  mad  about  her!  I  don't  eat  enough  to  keep  a 
bird  alive,  I'm  so  in  love,  and  I've  kept  it  so  much  to 
myself.  And  she's  the  prettiest  little  thing  in  the 
world!" 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  closed  her  eyes  and  waited  for  the 
inevitable,  as  it  grew  more  and  more  hopeless  every 
minute,  to  divert  the  declaration. 

"  Ask  me  who  she  is?  "  demanded  the  boy. 

"  I  am  waiting,"  said  the  lady. 

"  A  squab !  "  the  boy  announced,  delightedly.  "  A 
darling  little  brunette  squab  who  wears  pink  bows  on 
her  elbows  when  she  has  on  white  dresses.  A  winner 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       281 

• —  you  know  her  —  Evelyn  Carew  ?  I  am  wild  about 
her,  and  I  must  have  been  for  a  long  time,  but  only 
recently  discovered  what  was  the  matter  with  me. 
Gee  —  won't  the  Camp  get  a  shock,  eh  ?  Will  you 
wish  me  well,  Princess?  " 

'  Yes,  boy,  I  do.  I  always  shall,  but  it's  so  serious, 
this  thing  of  marrying.  Really  it  is  an  appalling 
risk!  "  she  insisted. 

"  Princess?  "  he  said,  "  don't  you  know,  yet,  that  it 
is  the  risks  of  life  that  make  the  game  interesting? 
Now  I've  got  to  go,  because  her  dad  gets  red  hot  when 
I  call  too  late;  if  I  don't  get  this  out  of  my  system  be 
fore  morning,  I'll  explode  or  something.  I  ought  to 
have  had  this  all  over  an  hour  ago,  but  I  had  to  find 
out  first,  how  you  were  —  we  were  all  worried.  I 
won't  tell  them  that  you  are  going,  but  they  will  all 
miss  you,  just  as  I  shall.  You'll  come  back  some  day 
and  visit  Mrs.  Colby  and  me,  won't  you?  You  know  I 
never  have  had  a  chance  to  tell  you  about  the  time  when 
I  was  a  lawyer,  and  you  ought  not  to  miss  anything  like 
that,  really.  And  now  I  am  going  to  kiss  the  other 
hand  —  the  one  I  did  not  kiss  that  night  at  your  dinner 
—  and  then  I'll  have  to  beat  it  for  the  only-girl's 
house." 

And  he  did. 

When  he  got  his  car  cranked  up,  and  had  started,  he 
called  back  what  he  came  to  say  in  the  first  place,  "  That 
was  a  great  stunt  you  did  this  afternoon,  Princess  —  it 
was  the  prettiest  piece  of  shooting  seen  around  here, 
since  they  put  Montana  on  the  map !  Good-bye !  " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

T  IFE  moved  in  the  Camp  —  even  if  those  who  still 
•*-'  mourned  the  loss  of  the  presence  of  Carl  Heil- 
berg  among  them,  did  feel  the  place  was  on  the  wane. 
Everybody  lived  at  a  high  pressure,  and  so,  naturally 
enough,  while  she  was  a  part  of  the  Camp,  herself, 
Eleanor  Evan-Stone  lived,  and  lived  hard.  And  now 
that  the  time  for  her  to  go  away,  had  come  —  the  time 
when  the  very  roof  above  her  bid  her  go,  and  every 
atom  of  her  soul  called  out  and  begged  to  stay  —  the 
lady  almost  lived  herself  to  death. 

Martha  got  a  sort  of  picnic  supper  on  the  last 
night,  'twas  the  best  she  could  do  with  the  limited  con 
veniences  and  appointments  left  in  the  house  after  their 
own  things  had  been  sent  to  the  express  company's. 
But  Martha  was  too  tired  to  eat,  she  said,  and  Emily 
Corey  had  the  blues  and  it  took  what  strength  she  had 
to  try  to  appear  glad  that  she  was  being  given  a  chance 
—  the  mountains  pulled  her  to  the  windows;  the  flats 
and  hills  with  their  cruel  scars  made  by  blasted  hope 
and  prospect  holes,  held  her,  staring  out.  She  would 
not  try  to  eat.  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  crumbled  her  bread 
up  and  made  little  balls  of  it  by  rolling  it  on  the  bare 
table,  and  her  eyes  were  blinded  by  the  struggle  to 
hold  back  the  tears.  She  got  no  further  toward  ac 
knowledging  that  a  meal  was  spread  before  her.  And 
on  the  whole,  the  last  supper  party  on  the  top  of  Cop 
per  Hill  could  not  have  been  called  a  brilliant  affair, 
even  by  the  most  unworn  of  society  reporters, 

282 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       283 

And  the  dear  little  house  itself  was  sad  in  its  dis 
mantled  state  —  the  pretty  curtains  down,  the  pillows 
packed  away  with  all  ornaments  and  pictures;  and 
worst  of  all,  the  piano  shrouded  in  an  evil-looking  oil 
cloth  cover.  Only  the  telephone  remained  the  same  — 
the  man  had  not  come  to  disconnect  it,  as  was  ordered 
—  but  it  looked  a  monument  to  woe,  standing  all  by 
itself  on  a  deserted  desk.  The  bungalow  could  hardly 
have  been  more  uncheering  in  appearance,  immediately 
after  a  funeral. 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  had  suggested  that  they  spend  the 
last  day  at  the  hotel,  but  Emily  Corey  seemed  averse  to 
this,  frankly  telling  her  hostess  that  it  wouldn't  do  any 
nice  woman  any  good  to  be  seen  with  her  in  a  public 
place  in  the  Camp.  Furthermore,  Emily  was  very 
weak,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  she  made  even  lit 
tle  changes,  like  going  from  one  room  to  another.  So 
they  kept  her  still,  and  all  stayed  together  until  the 
last  —  in  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone's  new  house,  their 
former  home. 

The  train  pulled  out  of  this  Montana  spot  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  generally  conceded  by  the  na 
tives  an  awkward  hour,  being  a  little  too  early  to  leave 
whatever  company  one  was  in  for  the  evening,  and  a 
little  too  late  to  sit  up  for  without  going  somewhere 
first.  But  persons  not  natives  could  find  out,  if  they 
tried,  that  the  Pullman  was  side-tracked  in  the  station 
yards  at  eleven,  where  one  could  go  and  get  a  fair  pro 
portion  of  the  sleep  he  was  paying  for,  if  he  were  so 
inclined.  Therefore,  a  Me.  Queene  hack  came  creak 
ing  and  rumbling  up  to  the  top  of  Copper  Hill  at  half 
past  ten;  and  with  some  vigorous  remarks  along  the 


284       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

same  line  as  those  made  by  most  cab-drivers  when 
urging  their  horses  to  make  the  climb,  this  driver 
heralded  his  arrival.  It  was  not  necessary  for  him  to 
ring  the  door  bell.  The  bags  were  ready  and  the 
travellers  with  their  hats  on,  were  standing  at  the  door. 
The  electricity  had  been  turned  off  in  the  afternoon,  so 
the  house  was  dark. 

"  It's  a  damn-good  thing,"  he  remarked  to  the  trio 
in  the  doorway,  with  something  of  the  Camp  in 
formality,  "  that  I  didn't  have  this  pull  for  nothing. 
When  I  reached  that  place,  half-way  up,  where  it's 
even  betting  whether  you  and  the  team  fall  off  back 
wards,  or  keep  the  trail,  I  would  have  swore  there 
wasn't  a  light  in  the  place,  and  you  folks  had  already 
went." 

Martha  and  the  driver  helped  Emily  into  the  car 
riage,  then  the  man  took  the  bags  up  onto  the  box. 
Mrs.  Evan-Stone  appeared  without  her  coat,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  give  Martha  her  instructions,  to  that  person's 
surprise. 

"  Martha,"  she  said,  "  I  am  not  going  with  you  —  I 
will  follow  later.  I  want  you  to  get  Emily  to  bed  at 
once  on  the  sofa.  The  drawing  room  will  be  ready 
for  you  when  you  arrive,  and  here  are  your  tickets. 
You  can  go  out  after  Emily  is  comfortable  and  check 
your  two  trunks;  I  will  attend  to  my  own  things,  my 
self.  Then  go  to  bed,  and  don't  bother  about  me." 

Martha  stood  rebellious,  instantly.  "  Why  Mrs. 
Evan?  "  she  gasped  in  a  queer  sort  of  awe.  "  I  ain't 
going  to  let  you  stay  here  alone  —  your  mother's  little 
girl?  No  madame  —  it  wouldn't  be  right." 

"Nor   me,    either!"    Emily   Corey   seconded   her. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        285 

"  We  stay  right  with  you,  Mrs.  Evan-Stone.  It  ain't 
safe  up  here  for  you  alone  at  night  —  honest  it  ain't. 
I  know  this  Camp  —  believe  me  !  " 

It  was  clear  that  Eleanor's  little  plan  to  have  an  hour 
alone  in  this  place  she  had  loved,  was  not  in  accordance 
with  the  ideas  of  the  two  loyal  women  who  held  them 
selves  responsible  for  her. 

But  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  held  the  winning  argument. 

"  Martha,"  she  said  firmly,  "  get  inside  the  car 
riage  !  "  And  Martha  obeyed,  to  her  own  astonish 
ment.  Then  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  put  her  head  inside  so 
that  the  driver  might  not  hear  all  that  was  said,  and  she 
went  on,  "  Now  you  two  must  do  what  I  think  best. 
Emily  knows  that  the  reason  she  would  not  go  to  the 
hotel  with  me,  holds  good  about  my  going  to  the  sta 
tion  with  her.  She  is  too  ill  to  sit  in  this  cold  house 
any  longer  than  necessary,  and  she  cannot  go  to  the 
train  alone,  Martha.  You  and  she  will  have  your 
meals  in  the  drawing  room,  and  stay  right  there  until  it 
is  necessary  to  change  cars  at  St.  Paul,  and  when  this 
is  to  be  done,  you  two  will  still  go  together,  and  I  shall 
follow.  Emily  understands  this  must  be  so.  Don't 
you,  Emily?  " 

"  If  you  ever  take  me  on  another  trip  —  some  place 
different  from  this  Camp,  it  won't  be  so !  "  responded 
Emily  Corey  with  pride  and  a  touch  of  appreciation 
that  was  very  sweet.  "  But  I  guess  you're  right  this 


time." 


'  That's  a  dear  girl!  "  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  said,  taking 
her  hand.  "  Never  bother  yourselves  about  me,  you 
two,  for  I  have  a  clear  head  —  and  my  trusty  thirty- 
eight.  Good-bye  for  a  little  while."  And  slamming 


a86       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

the  door,  she  looked  up  and  said,  "  All  right,  driver. 
And  I  want  you  to  be  back  here  at  one  o'clock." 

Martha's  face  at  the  carriage  window  was  a  tragedy 
in  itself,  and  even  though  the  night  was  dark,  one  both 
felt  and  saw  the  faithful  servant's  apprehension. 

And  the  choking  girl  beside  her  sat  still,  struggling 
with  many  things,  among  which  was  a  feeling  almost 
too  much  for  her,  concerning  the  present  welfare  of 
her  gentle  friend  alone  up  there  on  the  hill.  And 
through  it  all,  was  an  upheaval  of  soul  that  she  did  not 
place  as  the  fact  that  one's  great  opportunity  in  life, 
does  not  always  come  singing  and  dancing  for  joy  — 
but  sometimes  heavy  with  uncried  tears  and  very  hard 
to  accept. 

It  was  with  a  nervous  shudder  that  Eleanor  Evan- 
Stone  turned  back  into  the  house  —  back  to  the  last 
candle  —  yet  nothing  in  the  world  could  have  held  her 
from  this  pain.  It  was  what  she  wanted  to  do.  She 
threw  herself,  face  down,  on  the  divan.  She  longed 
for  somebody  to  call  her  —  she  would  not  have  said  it 
was  the  wrong  number,  this  time.  But  she  had  waited 
all  day  long,  and  not  a  word  of  any  sort  had  come  from 
Mr.  Crathorne  Stone. 

She  longed  to  help  fate  hurry,  for  the  time  was 
growing  short,  and  she  might  never  again  have  a  chance 
to  hear  this  voice;  she  even  registered  1692,  once, 
knowing  that  if  she  got  an  answer  at  all,  it  would  be  in 
that  voice  she  wanted  to  hear,  for  Mr.  Stone  was  alone 
in  Suite  5  just  now,  the  other  man  being  out  of  town. 
Oh  it  was  just  a  little  place,  the  Camp  —  and  one  knew 
lots  of  little  things  like  this,  you  know.  Eleanor  won 
dered  if  he  were  still  on  the  couch,  and  if  it  would  give 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       287 

him  distress  to  move.  But  she  did  not  ring.  No,  she 
argued,  why  fight  the  end,  when  the  end  had  come? 

He  might  have  done  something,  whether  he  despised 
her,  or  not;  he  might  have  forgotten  her  old  cruelty  to 
him,  long  enough  to  thank  her  for  her  new  service, 
surely?  He  might  have  got  his  stenographer  to  type 
a  note  on  business  paper? 

But  he  did  not. 

Everything  had  happened  but  this.  All  sorts  of  the 
tag-ends  of  the  population  had  found  time  to  speak 
with  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  this  day  —  the  ticket-agent  even 
(and  mercy  knows  most  ticket-agents  will  let  you  miss 
every  train  that  ever  ran  on  the  company's  tracks,  and 
never  shift  a  cigar) .  But  this  one  went  to  the  unusual 
lengths  of  calling  1778  to  say  they  could  go  aboard  an 
hour  earlier  than  usual,  and  he  pleasantly  asked  that  his 
regards  be  taken  to  Broadway !  The  grocery  man  had 
found  time  to  hesitate  in  the  back  doorway  and  intimate 
that  he  had  fully  intended  to  ask  Martha  if  she  wouldn't 
do  him  the  favour  of  accompanying  him  to  Young  Peo 
ples'  Meeting  some  Sunday  night,  when  he  heard  of 
her  sudden  departure.  Oh,  yes  —  everybody  had 
found  time  to  be  polite  —  but  the  only  one  who  made 
any  difference! 

Dr.  Marsden  was  in  between  five  and  six.  Yes,  so 
he  was!  Eleanor  paid  him  fifty-five  dollars,  in  real 
money,  "  for  services  rendered  to  date,"  apologizing 
for  her  apparent  indelicacy  in  not  offering  him  a  check, 
but  explaining  that  she  had  closed  her  account.  How 
ever,  real  money  did  not  embarrass  this  professional 
man  at  all,  much  as  some  of  them  wince  at  having  a 
lady  hand  it  to  them. 


288       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

The  doctor  said  he  was  awfully  pleased  to  have  met 
her,  hoped  to  see  her  again,  would  advise  Miss  Corey 
not  to  over-do  for  a  while,  and  asked  if  she  noticed  the 
sunset. 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  had  extended  a  nice,  limp  hand  and 
said  she  trusted  he  would  look  her  up  if  he  ever  came 
to  New  York. 

And  this  affair  which  had  started  off  to  be  most 
thrilling,  came  to  an  amicable,  perfectly  flat  little  end 
ing,  natural  enough  in  all  of  its  detail  and  stage  setting, 
to  afford  any  of  our  modern  playwrights  the  chance  of 
their  lives  for  stirring  action,  emotional  effect  and 
scintillating  epigram. 

Upon  realising  this  climax  in  its  fullest  significance, 
Eleanor  sprang  up,  chilled  and  nervous,  calling  out  to 
the  emptiness  of  the  place,  "  This  silence  will  drive  me 
mad !  I  must  go  —  I  must  go  !  " 

She  ran  across  the  big  room  and  sent  a  blind  scurry 
ing  up,  to  get  a  last  look  at  the  mountains  from  her 
windows  —  or  —  his  windows.  The  great  snow- 
covered  tops  were  faintly  discernible  in  the  night. 
She  jerked  the  shade  down  again,  and  rushed  for  her 
hat  and  veil,  which  she  put  on  without  thinking  of 
a  mirror.  Next  she  threw  herself  into  her  long  travel 
ling  coat,  put  her  left  glove  on  with  a  single  thrust,  and 
tremblingly  she  opened  her  hand  bag  to  make  sure  she 
was  still  herself,  and  that  her  favourite  gun  was  where 
she  thought  it  was.  Then  she  quickly  went  the  rounds 
of  the  locks,  finding  them  all  secure,  as  she  knew  they 
were  before  she  started. 

The  last  candle  was  down  to  a  flickering  stub  an 
inch  high,  in  a  brass  stick  which  stood  on  a  little  table 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE        289 

that  had  been  shoved  up  close  to  one  of  the  book  cases. 
Its  dying  light  cast  into  prominence  a  couple  of  volumes 
of  the  works  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

When  Eleanor  leaned  over  to  blow  out  the  light, 
the  name  caught  her  eye.  She  laughed  a  little  hysteric 
ally,  and  said  in  a  quaint,  friendly  way,  "  Good-bye, 
Sir  Walter!  Life  will  drive  us  to  each  other,  yet!  I 
hope  it  won't  be  so  lonely  for  you  when  the  next  people 
move  in  —  good  night."  And  with  a  brave  little  at 
tempt  to  be  playful,  she  bowed  as  she  killed  the  light. 

The  front  door  slammed  upon  her,  and  she  stood 
locked  out,  motionless.  She  thought  she  saw  a  move 
ment  in  the  shadows  of  the  porch,  and  she  had  her 
right  hand  inside  her  bag  and  on  her  gun  instantly. 

"  It's  only  the  bogey-man  —  don't  jump,"  said  a 
voice,  kindly.  "  I  have  made  it  a  point  to  be  sober 
to-night,  so  you  have  nothing  to  fear.  You  remember 
I  told  you  that  once  I  was  a  gentleman?  I  have  been 
hanging  around  here,  freezing,  for  an  hour,  thinking 
I  might  be  of  some  service.  I  could  hear  you  crying 
—  clear  out  here.  Can  I  help  you?  " 

"  You  are  nice  to  want  to  help,  Mr.  Ortman,"  she 
replied.  "  I  am  sorry  you  heard  me  crying,  because  I 
have  no  excuse  to  cry.  And  there  is  something  you 
can  do  for  me,  if  you  will." 

"  I  am  glad,"  was  all  he  said. 

"  I  was  just  about  to  run  down  this  hill,  and  walk  up 
into  town  to  that  other  hill,  just  back  of  the  Quartz 
Club  Building.  I  want  to  sit  on  that  heap  of  rocks 
there  in  the  vacant  lot,  until  twenty  minutes  to  one. 
Then  I  want  to  come  back  to  the  foot  of  this  hill 
and  meet  my  carriage  for  the  station.  Will  you  stay 


290       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

somewhere  near  me,  in  case  I  should  be  molested?  " 

"  I  will,"  he  told  her,  sincerely  glad  of  the  trust,  and 
adding,  "  I  want  to  thank  you,  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,  for 
your  goodness  to  the  little  Corey  girl.  Tell  her  some 
time,  will  you,  that  I  knew  it  hurt  her  for  me  not  to  say 
good-bye,  but  I  thought  it  was  the  easiest  way  for  her? 
She's  as  square  a  woman  as  ever  lived,  and  she  will 
make  good  with  the  chance,  and  maybe  be  even  happy 
some  day.  She  did  a  lot  for  me,  but  nobody  can  change 
me  —  I  am  as  bad  as  that."  And  for  this  little,  sober 
moment,  there  was  honesty  and  humility  in  him. 

The  two  stood  in  the  darkness,  in  silence  a  second, 
then  the  man  went  on,  "  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me? 
But  you  know  how  things  get  noised  around  in  a  hole 
like  this,  and  I  happened  to  hear  a  miner's  candle-stick 
was  wanted  by  a  lady  from  the  East.  One  of  the  shift 
bosses  of  the  mine  Colby  runs,  told  me  one  day  he  had 
orders  to  get  one  for  Colby,  but  he  never  could  re 
member  it.  I  put  two  and  two  together  —  Colby's 
machine  climbing  this  hill  often,  and  your  being  from 
the  East.  Maybe  I  am  mistaken?  But  anyway,  I 
went  down  into  a  deserted  prospect  hole  on  ladders  one 
day,  and  got  this  for  you.  If  you  don't  want  it,  or  if 
you  already  have  several  —  all  right." 

The  lady  held  out  her  hand  and  took  the  cold,  metal 
thing  he  offered  her.  "  I  haven't  any  other  miner's 
candle-stick,"  she  said,  "  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  have 
this.  Thank  you.  And  I  should  like  to  shake  hands 
with  you,  and  wish  you  well." 

The  man  stepped  back. 

"  Thank  you"  he  replied.  "  I'll  keep  your  good 
wishes  —  but  that's  enough.  Now  if  you  will  go 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       291 

where  you  want  to,  I  will  see  that  nobody  annoys  you. 
Good-bye  —  I  shall  not  speak  to  you  again,  unless  you 
speak  to  me  first." 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Ortman,"  she  said,  putting  the 
candle-stick  in  her  bag,  beside  the  gun.  "  And  good 
luck  to  you !  " 

Then  she  walked  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  it  was  safe 
in  such,  uncertain  light.  Once  at  the  bottom,  she 
turned  back  and  addressed  the  night,  knowing  that  her 
bodyguard  would  hear  her.  "  Will  you  whistle  three 
times  when  it's  a  quarter  to  one?  "  she  asked. 

'Yes,"  answered  a  voice  from  the  deep  shadows 
to  the  left  of  her. 

Then  she  hurried  on. 

Eleanor  scrambled  to  an  uncomfortable  seat  among 
the  rocks  that  had  lain  here  only  heaven  knows  how 
long,  and  these  days  were  not  overlooking  simple 
wilderness,  but  rather  the  windows  of  Suite  5,  Quartz 
Club  Building. 

There  was  a  light. 

There  was  a  white  little  face  staring  at  that  light 
for  almost  an  hour,  feverishly. 

Presently  the  light  was  snapped  off,  and  the  little 
white  face  dropped  with  a  sob  into  a  pair  of  gloved 
hands,  and  stayed  just  here  until  three  distinct,  short 
whistles  recalled  Eleanor  Evan-Stone  to  the  world  and 
its  responsibilities. 

The  North  Coast  Limited  left  at  the  usual  hour,  with 
two  of  the  occupants  of  the  drawing  room  of  the  last 
Pullman,  sound  asleep,  and  the  third  one  lay  face  down 
in  the  lower  berth,  clothes  all  on,  crying  herself  to  un 
consciousness  as  quietly  as  she  could. 


292       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

And  the  key  to  the  Burns  bungalow  lay  between 
two  bits  of  cardboard  in  an  envelope  at  the  bottom  of 
the  station  letter  box,  addressed  to  the  new  owner,  Mr. 
Crathorne  Stone,  care  of  Messrs.  Burbanks,  Stark  and 
Biddle,  real  estate  agents. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

ELEANOR  EVAN-STONE  sat  in  a  chair  beside 
the  desk  of  her  physician,  Dr.  LeRoy,  in  the  late 
afternoon  of  a  day  soon  after  her  return  to  New  York. 
She  seemed  very  different  from  the  droopy  little  "  case  " 
that  used  to  sit  in  the  same  place  often  —  but  a  few 
weeks  before.  She  looked  taller,  more  vigorous  and 
very  much  changed.  Generally  speaking,  she  seemed 
much  improved  in  health,  although  there  were  dark 
circles  under  her  heavy  brown  eyes  that  indicated  lack  of 
sleep,  perhaps,  and  nerves.  She  seemed  spiritually 
changed,  more  than  physically  —  she  was  older,  and 
there  was  a  new  pride  and  a  new  smile  that  was  puz 
zling  to  the  man  who  sat  studying  her. 

"  J  ought  not  to  forgive  you  for  having  been  in  town 
several  days  without  letting  me  know,"  he  was  saying; 
"  perhaps  I  don't  forgive  you.  But  anyway,  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  looking  so  well,  and  dressed  in  colours.  I 
will  try  to  excuse  your  neglect  of  me." 

"  I  never  expect  to  treat  any  man  civilly  again," 
the  former  patient  made  answer.  "  I  have  done  with 


men." 


"  Really?"  he  smiled  back  at  her,  utterly  at  a  loss 
to  know  how  much  or  how  little  in  earnest  she  was,  and 
resolving  to  get  at  the  reason  for  the  new  attitude  she 
had  toward  life  in  general.  "  Done  with  men,  eh? 
That  is  why  you  came  to  see  me,  I  suppose?  But  a 
physician  is  a  privileged  character  —  at  least  so  you 
used  to  tell  me.  However,  I  want  to  hear  about  a 

293 


294       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

number  of  things  now,  so  we  won't  waste  any  time  on 
me.  You  have  been  somewhere  to  a  matinee,  haven't 
you?" 

Eleanor  glanced  down  at  a  concert  program  she 
was  rolling  in  her  restless  hands.  "  Yes,"  she  reflected, 
"  and  I  nearly  went  wild,  too !  It  was  awful.  There 
was  a  great  orchestra,  agitating  the  air,  together  with  a 
renowned  pianist  adding  to  the  noise,  and  the  whole 
effect  so  bewildering  that  one  couldn't  sit  and  think  in 
any  peace  at  all.  I  kept  wishing  that  the  piano  person 
would  try  to  find  some  more  fitting  use  for  his  man's 
time  and  strength." 

"I  thought  you  were  a  music  lover?"  the  doctor 
commented. 

"  I  used  to  think  so  myself,"  she  owned  in  a  tired 
little  way,  "  but  then,  I  used  to  think  also  that  I  was 
civilised  and  tame,  and  conventional.  But  I'm  not,  I 
find,  I  am  a  kind  of  thing  they  call  an  *  Indian '  out 
West.  I  don't  like  fussy  music  in  heated  theatres  — 
I  like  the  wind  in  the  Camp  country  club  screens 
and  I  like  the  sound  of  copper  ore  tearing  down  a 
chute.  I  belong  in  that  jumping-off  place  you  sent 


me  to." 


"So?"  smiled  the  doctor,  much  amused.  "How 
you  have  changed!  " 

Eleanor  closed  her  eyes,  and  spoke  as  if  to  her 
self,  alone.  "  I  am  so  homesick  for  that  God-forsaken 
mining  camp,  with  its  crudeness,  its  noise  and  its  life, 
that  I  sometimes  want  to  throw  myself  on  the  earth 
and  cry  myself  to  death !  " 

The  physician  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"  So  it  worked,  did  it?  "  he  asked. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       295 

"What  worked?'*  questioned  the  young  woman, 
catching  his  words. 

"  Well,"  he  explained,  "  everything  worked.  My 
plan  of  breaking  into  your  settled  state  of  self-absorp 
tion,  worked,  for  one  thing;  and  because  something 
jarred  into  it,  you  are  a  hundred  times  stronger  than 
you  were.  You  have  grown  sensible  and  have  dis 
carded  the  black  clothes  that  used  to  pull  your  spirits 
down  —  you  are  wonderful  in  brown  velvet,  just  the 
shade  of  your  eyes,  and  that  bunch  of  scarlet  flowers  in 
your  turban,  and  these  fine  furs." 

"That  will  do,  Doctor!"  she  reproved  him. 
"  This  sounds  too  much  like  the  Western  men,  who  are 
the  very  worst  men  for  saying  exactly  what  they  feel 
like  saying,  I  ever  met.  But  I  am  stronger,  and  you 
may  congratulate  yourself  on  your  idea  of  making  me 
take  a  different  point-of-view,  if  you  like.  I  am  dif 
ferent  —  I  have  been  gone  long  enough  to  have  be 
come  changed,  heaven  knows." 

"  About  two  months  since  you  went  away,  isn't  it?  " 
he  thought  back. 

"  Two  years,  you  mean,  Doctor,"  she  replied. 
"  But  twenty  years  would  seem  nearer  the  truth." 

"  Nine  weeks  on  Wednesday,"  he  insisted. 

"  I  have  changed,"  the  lady  rushed  on,  the  subject 
being  uppermost  in  her  mind.  "  If  you  think  this 
gown  attractive,  you  might  wait  for  the  next  one.  I 
have  a  visiting  secretary  at  present  going  over  the  old 
Evan  social  list,  and  I  am  going  to  give  myself  the 
honour  of  presenting  myself  to  society  for  the  second 
time!  A  series  of  receptions,  I  have  planned,  a  flock 
of  dinners,  and  a  ball.  I  am  going  to  get  the  present 


296       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

tenants  out  of  the  Newport  place,  if  I  have  to  dynamite 
them  out  the  way  they  do  the  ore  in  the  Camp;  and  I 
shall  live  there  part  of  next  summer,  with  house  parties 
going  and  coming  until  one  can't  think.  That  yacht  of 
Father's  that  has  been  soaking  in  stagnant  water  in 
Harlem  for  three  years,  I  shall  have  put  in  commission. 
And  to-morrow  morning  —  if  I  can  arrange  to  get  it 
in  —  I  shall  consult  my  lawyers  upon  beginning  action 
at  once  for  absolute  divorce.  This  silly,  intermediate 
4  legal  separation '  business  is  a  farce.  I  want  my 
liberty  and  peace  of  mind." 

The  doctor  beamed,  because  of  his  professional 
triumph.  His  patient  was  so  very  beautiful  and  so 
sure  of  herself  and  so  madly  in  earnest  —  she  was  like 
the  climax  of  a  play  to  him. 

"  This  gives  one  the  impression  that  you  will  be 
rather  busy  for  a  while,  at  least,"  he  dryly  commented. 
"  When  you  get  through  with  all  these  proposed  things 
—  what  then?  " 

She  smiled  dreamily,  instantly  softening. 

"Well,"  she  hesitated,  "how  can  one  say?  Per 
haps  I  shall  marry  you  —  then." 

"  Now  that  is  very  sweet  and  thoughtful  of  you !  " 
the  doctor  retorted.  "  I  appreciate  your  unselfishness, 
but  you  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind.  I  have  quite 
enough  trouble  as  it  is.  But  —  thank  you,  just  the 


same." 


"  I  will  if  I  want  to,"  she  insisted. 

"  You  will  hardly  be  marrying  anybody,  I  venture  to 
say,"  he  went  on.  "  First,  you  remember,  you  will 
have  to  get  your  freedom,  and  it  is  not  so  easy  as  it 
seems.  What  grounds  will  you  base  your  plea  upon?  " 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       297 

"  I  should  like  to  plead  general  cussedness,  but  that 
being  informal,  perhaps  non-support  can  be  used." 

"Yes?"  the  doctor  encouraged  her.  "But  when 
Mr.  Stone's  attorneys  step  in  and  promptly  prove  that 
he  offered  to  make  you  a  liberal  allowance,  without  ever 
having  been  asked  to  do  so  —  what  then?  The  fact 
that  you  scorned  the  offer,  does  not  react  against  the 
defendant,  does  it?  " 

"  This  eternal  standing-together  of  men,  is  all  very 
well,"  she  replied,  caustically,  "  but  I  won't  listen  to  a 
word  of  pleading,  open  or  veiled,  for  this  person  who 
once  was  my  husband !  He  has  treated  me  abominably. 
You  know  he  has,  for  I  have  told  you  truthfully  how 
he  behaved.  Furthermore,  I  shall  never  believe  you 
were  innocent  of  Crathorne  Stone's  being  in  the  Camp, 
when  you  suggested  my  going  out  there !  " 

"Innocent  of  it?  Who  ever  said  I  was?"  the 
doctor  surprised  her.  "  I  knew  he  had  been  there  for 
a  couple  of  years  —  of  course  I  knew  it.  I  wanted  to 
effect  a  reconciliation." 

She  stared  at  the  man,  but  finally  managed  to  calm 
herself  enough  to  say,  "  Well,  you  certainly  made  glow 
ing  success  of  reconciling  the  Crathorne  Stones,  Doctor ! 
Ha!  ha!  Blessed  is  the  peacemaker!  "  • 

Her  irony,  instead  of  confusing  the  doctor,  struck 
him  as  being  humorous,  and  he  boldly  remarked, 
"  Now  don't  take  all  the  wind  out  of  my  sails,  please? 
You  know,  I  think  I  did  very  well.  I  have  done  well 
enough  to  make  you  fall  deeply  in  love  with  the  man, 
which  is  more  than  you  ever  were  before.  And  every 
woman  owes  it  to  her  husband  to  fall  in  love  with  him 
at  least  once^" 


298       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  In  love  with  him  —  with  that  man?  "  stormed  the 
lady,  springing  to  her  feet  in  a  whirlwind  of  temper, 
and  looking  like  a  dear  little  modern  goddess  of  war. 
"  Do  you  wish  to  insult  me?  " 

"  No  —  sit  down.  I  am  only  trying  to  make  you 
happy,"  he  pleasantly  asserted. 

"  Doctor,"  she  said,  severely,  "  you  had  best  stick 
to  doing  things  in  your  own  profession.  You  are  not 
fitted  to  heal  mental  and  spiritual  wounds.  You  don't 
know  anything  about  love." 

"  Don't  I  ?  "  he  said,  putting  his  kind  hands  on  her 
shoulders,  and  gently  forcing  her  to  sit  down  again. 
"  You  want  to  remember,  little  patient,  that  you  must 
play  fair.  You  have  not  heard  what  the  man  has  to 
say  for  himself  —  you  have  not  made  any  allowance 
whatever  for  him;  for  his  inherited,  repressed  nature; 
his  pride;  his  wrongs.  You  left  him  as  a  naughty 
child  throws  a  toy  across  the  room.  You  thought  to 
justify  your  action  by  cultivating  a  hatred  for  all  that 
was  connected  with  this  boy;  you  didn't  care  for  his 
grandmother,  with  whom  his  father  insisted  that  you 
both  live.  Otherwise  they  both  would  have  disin 
herited  him.  He  is  not  the  type  of  fellow  who  is 
analytical,  and  he  is  not  a  diplomatist  —  unless  he  has 
acquired  the  art  recently." 

"Oh,  he  hasn't  acquired  it,  Doctor!  That  is,  one 
can't  see  it  with  ordinary  eye-sight,"  Eleanor  broke  in 
with  a  warm  inflection  that  made  the  doctor  stop  and 
smile. 

"  As  I  was  about  to  say,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "  the 
boy  never  had  a  glib  tongue  —  he  might  feel  every 
thing  in  heaven  aud  earth,  but  he  could  not  express 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       299 

that  feeling  in  words.  You  did  not  want  the  great  love 
of  a  good  man  —  you  wanted  poses  and  words." 

"  I  am  getting  plenty  of  words,  now,  certainly,"  she 
drolly  remarked. 

"  Yes,  but  his  words,  are  the  words  for  you  to  listen 
to,"  the  doctor  gravely  pointed  out  her  duty  to  her. 

"  His  words  —  his  words?"  Eleanor  almost 
screamed  at  the  man.  "  Haven't  I  listened  for  a  few 
words  from  that  man  —  every  day  —  since  I  ran  away 
from  the  marble-topped  rosewood  and  the  morning 
prayers  at  his  house?  And  if  I  were  fool  enough  to 
keep  on  listening,  wouldn't  I  do  the  last  few  years  of  it 
through  an  ear-trumpet,  so  old  I  should  be  with 
waiting?  " 

"  Couldn't  you  go  a  little  way  —  to  him?"  the 
would-be  peacemaker  gently  ventured. 

"  I  fancy  he  is  of  the  opinion  that  I  did  go  a  little 
way  to  him,  when  I  landed  in  that  treeless  mining 
camp,  unconscious  of  *  going  to  meet  him,  when  he  was 
yet  a  great  way  off ' !  " 

And  she  folded  her  arms  and  waited  for  the  next 
blow. 

"  Ladies  always  have  the  right  to  renew  or  drop 
former  acquaintances,"  the  doctor  amused  himself  by 
recalling. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  the  injured  woman,  "  and  I  have 
dropped  this  one." 

"  He  probably  took  your  action  as  final,"  thought 
the  doctor,  gloomily. 

This  arrested  the  lady's  interest.  She  stopped 
tramping  about,  and  leaned  up  against  the  bookcase. 

"  I   despise   a   milk-and-water  man  who  stays   dis- 


300       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

carded !  "  she  grandly  exclaimed,  her  eyes  having  lost 
their  heaviness  which,  perhaps,  was  burned  out  by  the 
fire  in  them  now. 

"  Yes,  so  do  I,"  the  doctor  sided  with  her.  "  But 
even  a  milk-and-water  man,  as  you  call  him,  makes  a 
stand  for  the  things  he  wants,  as  a  rule." 

It  was  a  full  moment  before  Mrs.  Evan-Stone  got 
over  the  shock  of  this  simple  truth.  But  presently  she 
said,  in  a  more  humble  spirit,  "  I  appreciate  this  man 
does  not  care  to  know  me,  Doctor;  you  don't  need  to 
make  it  any  clearer  than  it  is.  I  think  I  saw  that 
point,  myself,  sometime  ago.  And,  so  long  as  this 
affair  interests  you  and  you  like  problems,  you  will  be 
amused  to  hear  that  the  next  time  I  run  away  from 
anybody,  I  intend  to  be  sure  that  I  shall  want  to  stay 
gone,  before  I  ever  make  the  start." 

"  I  thought  you  did  not  care  for  this  man?  "  asked 
the  doctor. 

"  You  have  thought  accurately,  Doctor,  I  don't. 
Heavens !  You  would  have  us  re-united  in  five  minutes' 
conversation,  the  tall  blond  hero  uttering  some  of  those 
words  you  would  have  me  listen  to;  and  the  orchestra 
softly  sobbing  out  *  Calm  as  the  — ,'  I  mean  *  After  the 
ball.'  You  positively  exhaust  one's  patience.  Don't 
think  for  a  moment  I  shall  ever  have  a  chance  to  listen 
to  Mr.  Crathorne  Stone  speak  on  our  affairs,  or  any 
other  subject  —  he  is  at  present  in  Montana  with  his 
game  leg  bolstered  up  on  a  chair,  enjoying  the  peace 
and  quiet  of  things  now  that  '  Mrs.  Evanston  '  has 
left." 

"Is  he?"  asked  the  Doctor.  "Well,  anyway,  let 
us  shake  hands  and  part  as  friends?  And  surely  you 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       301 

cannot  tell  me  you  got  nothing  at  all  out  of  your  stay 
in  the  Camp?  " 

She  stopped  on  her  way  to  the  door,  and  her  face 
lightened  with  a  look  of  reminiscence.  Conscious  of 
the  farce  in  a  number  of  things,  she  assumed  great 
earnestness  and  said,  "  Yes  —  1  did  get  something, 
but  I  never  worked  so  hard  for  any  one  thing  in  all 
my  life  as  I  did  for  it  —  never.  I  got  a  miner's  candle 
stick.  It  was  given  me  by  a  queer  wreck  of  humanity, 
who  sagely  remarked  to  me  once  when  I  was  mistaking 
him  for  a  burglar,  that  making  changes  in  men  was  a 
difficult  task  anywhere,  but  an  impossibility  in  a  mining 
camp,  and  that  one  day  I  would  find  it  out  for  myself. 
I  have  found  it  out.  Good-bye." 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  directed  the  chauffeur  to  go  home. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

1%/TRS.  EVAN-STONE  swept  by  the  butler,  with  al- 
•***•••  most  as  much  vim  as  Barton  Colby  passed  a 
maid  when  he  arrived  late  for  dinner.  She  threw  her 
muff  off  in  the  general  direction  of  the  hall  table. 
Completely  absorbed  in  her  own  confused  emotions, 
she  made  for  the  stairs.  The  man  spoke  twice,  but  she 
heeded  him  not.  The  third  time  he  addressed  her,  she 
whirled  on  the  first  landing  and  snapped,  "  What  did 
you  say,  Thompson?  I  do  wish  you  would  speak  so 
one  can  hear  you !  " 

"  I  said,  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,"  the  man  replied,  keep 
ing  his  temper,  creditably,  "  a  gentleman  is  waiting  to 
see  you." 

"  Where  is  his  card?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  wouldn't  give  a  name,  Mrs.  Evan-Stone,"  he 
reported. 

"  What  does  he  look  like?  "  came  next. 

"  Like  a  caller,"  said  the  man.  "  Frock  coat,  high 
hat,  light  trousers,  cane,  new  gloves,  a  flower  in  his 
button-hole." 

"What  does  he  look  like,  I  said?"  Mrs.  Evan- 
Stone  repeated. 

"  I  didn't  have  time  to  look  at  his  face,  Mrs.  Evan- 
Stone,"  the  butler  acknowledged. 

"  Apparently  not,"  remarked  the  mistress,  throwing 
her  neck  fur  over  the  stair  railing,  tossing  her  card- 
case  and  program  onto  a  chair,  and  turning  toward 
the  drawing  room,  like  a  little  cyclone,  prepared  to  an- 

302 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       303 

nihilate  some  gentlemanly  book-agent  or  sewing-ma 
chine  man. 

Somebody  was  destined  to  wish  he  had  stayed  at 
home  —  this  was  evident. 

A  young  man  was  leaning  forward  over  the  grand 
piano,  intently  studying  the  brown  portrait  of  the  late 
Baron  Gastav  von  Bernharden.  Upon  Mrs.  Evan- 
Stone's  entrance,  he  deliberately  set  the  frame  down, 
and  bowed. 

"  Good-afternoon,"  he  said,  smiling  enough  to  show 
his  fine  teeth  with  the  slight  part  in  the  centre  that  was 
perfectly  familiar  to  the  lady. 

She  automatically  reached  for  the  back  of  a  tall 
chair,  to  help  steady  herself,  as  she  bowed  formally 
and  said,  "  Good-afternoon !  " 

"  I  was  spending  the  time  until  you  should  come  in, 
looking  at  this  photograph,  which  I  heard  about  dur 
ing  your  brief  sojourn  out  in  Montana.  It  really  does 
look  a  good  deal  like  me,  doesn't  it?  "  he  appealed  to 
her. 

"  Some  of  your  friends  seemed  to  think  so,  Mr. 
Stone,"  stiffly  remarked  Mrs.  Evan-Stone.  "Won't 
you  sit  down?  " 

"  Thank  you  —  Mrs.  Stone,"  he  said,  sweetly,  and 
with  perfect  composure,  seemingly. 

Eleanor  almost  fainted  at  the  man's  mannerly  as 
surance,  but  she  found  no  courage  to  inform  him,  icily, 
that  her  name  was  at  present  Ei^w-Stone,  a  thing  she 
would  have  liked  to  do. 

"  No  doubt  you  are  surprised  by  my  visit?"  the 
young  man  began,  in  commonplace  tones.  "  I  had 
promised  myself  to  call  upon  you  when  you  lived 


304       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

among  us,  but  you  left  a  little  sooner  than  I  expected 
you  to,  and  I  have  been  somewhat  inconvenienced  by  a 
game  leg,  until  four  days  ago  —  when  I  took  an  east- 
bound  train  out  of  the  Camp." 

It  was  all  so  civil  and  so  very  well  done,  that  the 
lady  felt  herself  weakening  terribly.  She  had  not  a 
spark  of  anger  in  her  soul  to  help  her  preserve  her 
dignity.  Although  she  would  not  have  so  analysed 
it,  yet  her  love  was  greater  than  her  pride  —  she  was 
defeated  to  begin  with. 

"  You  knew  I  was  leaving  the  Camp,  then,  did 
you?  "  she  asked,  having  nothing  better  to  say. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  pleasantly.  "  I  expected 
you  would  be  going  shortly,  when  I  bought  the  house 
you  were  living  in." 

Mrs.  Evan-Stone  was  speechless,  so  colossal  was 
this  frank  admission. 

Mr.  Stone  ran  his  forefinger  around  the  edge  of  his 
high  collar,  unconsciously,  as  though  he  had  not  yet 
got  used  to  the  old-time  conventionalities  in  city  dress, 
and  went  on  in  the  same,  even,  adorable  voice  that  had 
always  been  his  greatest  attraction,  "  I  came  East  ex 
pressly  to  explain  to  you,  Mrs.  Stone,  that  I  bought 
this  little  house  purely  out  of  consideration  for  you. 
There  seemed  to  be  some  rather  serious  gossip  starting 
in  regard  to  a  young  woman  whom  you  were  befriend 
ing.  The  simplest  way  to  stop  the  talk  that  might 
have  resulted  disastrously  for  you,  was  to  get  you 
away." 

Still  the  woman  was  dumb. 

Mr.  Stone  took  a  deep  breath,  and  went  on,  assum 
ing  a  calm  he  did  not  feel  at  all,  "  In  regard  to  your 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       305 

wonderful  quickness  of  action  in  saving  my  life  — 
what  can  a  man  say?  I  vaguely  recall  having  read  in 
some  household  magazine,  or  other,  that  in  the  case 
of  a  lady  saving  a  man's  life,  it  was  only  fitting  that 
the  man  should  offer  to  present  that  life  to  the  lady. 
But  remembering  your  tastes,  it  occurred  to  me  an 
orchid  might  be  more  acceptable." 

The  hand  that  drew  the  flower  from  an  inside  coat 
pocket,  trembled  slightly. 

"  Too  bad,"  Mr.  Stone  murmured,  taking  off  the  thin 
oiled  paper  that  was  about  it.  "  I  see  one  petal  is 
broken.  May  I  lay  it  on  the  piano?  " 

He  looked  hard  at  the  lady,  who  had  risen,  and 
now  stood  as  one  cut  out  of  marble  —  an  exquisite 
figure  dressed  in  brown  velvet. 

Presently  Eleanor  spoke,  with  some  effort. 
"  Thank  you  for  the  flower,"  she  slowly  said,  "  but  I 
do  not  understand  your  offering  me  a  single  orchid." 

"  I  beg  pardon?  "  he  said. 

u  It  is  true,  is  it  not,"  she  forced  herself  to  con 
tinue,  "  that  you  receive  tokens  of  orchids  every  once 
in  a  while,  which  you  put  in  a  tall  vase  on  your  piano?  " 

She  waited. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  owned. 

"  Then  you  appreciate,  that  I  cannot  keep  your 
orchid?" 

"  I  cannot  imagine  how  such  a  detail  of  my  life 
could  ever  have  reached  your  ears,  Mrs.  Stone,  but  I 
shall  be  glad  to  explain  the  matter  to  you  —  on  one 
condition,"  Mr.  Stone  proposed.  "  I  should  like  to 
know  about  this  photograph  on  the  piano." 

"  That  seems  fair,"  agreed  Mrs.  Evan-Stone. 


3o6       THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE 

"  It  is  a  little  embarrassing,"  Mr.  Stone  hesitated, 
"  but  having  discovered  a  crumpled  song  of  mine 
among  your  sheets  of  music  —  a  song  that  most  mys 
teriously  disappeared  from  my  rooms  —  gives  me  the 
needed  nerve.  I  —  I  had  nothing  else,  so  —  so  I 
bought  the  orchids  myself.  Humiliating  confession 
of  sentiment,  isn't  it?  " 

44  That  is  —  rather  awful,"  Eleanor  said,  her  eyes 
full  of  tears,  but  she  did  not  show  him  her  eyes. 

"  The  brown  portrait  is  equally  disgraceful  to  me," 
she  did  her  part  now.  "  At  the  time  I  —  we  —  that 
is,  at  the  time  we  have  in  mind,  I  destroyed  every 
photograph  I  had  of  you,  and  later  I  was  sorry.  One 
day  I  begged  this  photograph  of  the  late  Baron  von 
Bernharden  from  a  friend.  It  is  not  unlike  some  of 
the  earlier  pictures  of  —  of  you.  The  coronet  be 
longed  on  the  travelling  bag  of  an  old  aunt  of  young 
Gustav's,  and  it  fell  off  when  we  were  in  a  railway  car 
riage  together  once  somewhere  in  Bavaria.  The  old 
lady  asked  me  to  throw  it  out  of  the  window  —  it  al 
ways  caught  on  her  silk  gloves!  But  I  kept  it;  and 
eventually  it  was  gold-washed  and  fastened  on  this 
frame,  coyly,  to  induce  foolish  persons  to  ask  ques 


tions." 


Silence  fell  upon  them  after  this,  a  strange  vibrant 
silence. 

Finally,  Mr.  Stone  cleared  his  throat  and  said,  ear 
nestly,  "  I  fancy  most  of  our  troubles  could  be  just 
about  as  easily  explained  as  these.  Have  you  ever 
thought,  Eleanor,  that  you  might  be  willing  to  come 
to  me,  and  give  our  difficulties  a  chance  ?  " 

"  I  will  never  go  all  the  way  to  you,"  she  answered. 


THE  JUMPING-OFF  PLACE       307 

"  But  if  you  will  come  as  far  as  the  table,  I  think  I  can 
go  the  other  half  of  the  distance  between  us." 

Then  she  stood  shyly  waiting  for  his  response  to 
this,  gazing  at  the  floor. 

"Good!"  Crathorne  Stone  said,  quietly.  "I  will 
go  as  far  as  the  table  and  wait  for  you  —  dear." 

Eleanor  walked  to  him,  slowly,  but  very  gladly;  and 
while  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  look  up,  still  she 
saw  through  her  tears  the  envelope  that  Mr.  Stone 
drew  out  of  his  pocket,  and  recognised  her  own  hand 
writing  on  it.  He  held  the  thing  in  a  nervous,  loving 
hand  so  that  she  could  see  it. 

In  as  steady  a  voice  as  he  could,  he  said,  "  It  sur 
prises  me  that  anyone  who  can  direct  a  bullet  as  well 
as  you  do,  Eleanor,  would  direct  a  letter  so  incorrectly. 
Apparently  you  intended  to  send  this  key  to  the  owner 
of  the  Copper  Hill  bungalow,  so  I  have  re-addressed 
it  to  —  to  Mrs.  Crathorne  Stone." 

"  Our  bungalow?  "  she  breathed,  looking  up  at  him 
through  clouded  brown  eyes. 

"  Our  bungalow!  "  said  Crathorne  Stone,  devotedly 
wiping  away  a  runaway  tear  on  her  cheek.  "  Our 
bungalow  —  exactly  I  " 


THE   END 


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